(Bound By) Clandestine Addiction
by Shigure-san
Summary: (Co-written with Yuki-Kiba-Chan) They were drawn to one another, irrationally, irrevocably. In the face of fear, hate and pain they always felt the pull to return. For a bond unwittingly formed by Harry's fatal spell? Or something more inevitable?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** (Bound By) Clandestine Addiction  
**Author**: Shigure-san and Yuki-Kiba-Chan  
**Rating:** NC-17 (Suitable for Mature Readers Only)  
**Pairings:** Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Warnings:** Abuse, Anal, Angst, Bad Language, HJ, Male Homosexual relationships, Slash, Oral, Violence, Graphic Lemon/Lime (scenes of a sexual nature)  
**Disclaimer:** We do not own ANY trademarks of 'Harry Potter'. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. We merely own this story which we make no money from.

**Author's Note:** I co-wrote this with my best friend of over 10 years, Yuki-Kiba-Chan a few years ago now but finally decided to post here. She isn't on here but find her on DeviantART at yuki-kiba-chan. deviantart .com (remove the two spaces). It's a few years old now but we loved writing it so we hope you enjoy reading it.

**Please note this is the censored verson (no sex is shown and will be cut out). To read the sex scenes please visit the links on my profile page.**

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**(Bound By) Clandestine Addiction**

[Chapter One]

It was a chilly, dark morning in Diagon Alley. The icy breath of winter's splintered branches reached over the street and the shop windows were clouded with the condensation of the young witches and wizards huddled inside away from the brisk winds and lightly falling snow.

Three figures rushed through the street towards the wand shop that had become the replacement of (the still missing) Ollivander's devastated shop. The golden trio kept close together, wary as they approached. They were in need of a new wand for Ron, due to his most recent carelessness.

As they crossed the all-but deserted street, Harry slowed at the prickling sensation that rippled through his skin. His fingers felt hot, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he glanced briefly at the entrance to Knockturn Alley. The diminutive light highlighted a flash of white-gold, stopping him in his tracks.

Harry squinted. Through the dim alleyway, he caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy, rigid with fear, his usual robes bunched up in another's threatening hands.

Malfoy cowered, pinned to the dirty wall by a taller, cloaked figure that Harry couldn't quite make out from this distance. As Ron and Hermione walked ahead of him into the shop and out of the cold, Harry informed them he would catch up. Without waiting for an answer, he continued to follow his senses along the dark and dreaded alley that Hagrid had warned him away from so many times before.

Malfoy and the figure disappeared from sight and Harry ran faster to catch up. Knockturn Alley beckoned him onward, the wispy furls of wintry mist curling in like summoning fingers and Harry was helpless but to follow. The shadows cast down from the high walls made him jump, and glance over his shoulder more than once as he pressed on.

Rounding the narrow corner into the dim, deserted street, the sounds of struggling feet against the cobblestone echoed from somewhere ahead. Harry's fingers clenched around his wand in the pocket of his jeans, and he cautiously approached.

"Take your filthy hands off me!" He heard Malfoy spit, closer than he thought.

"Draco, the Dark Lord needs you, he has chosen you to carry out–" The mysterious, cloaked man stopped suddenly in speech, the quiet sound of blundering footsteps ascending…

Harry quickened his already hasty steps, tripping over himself in his haste and found himself barrelling forwards – into the very people he was chasing. Two large hands thumped him hard, snapping Harry from the clumsy daze. He hurled himself back as he realised, he had unwittingly knocked the assailant away from Draco.

Draco snarled at Harry, who (to his surprise) stood before him in defence. He felt Harry's arm hovering before him, held there like some kind of protection. He quickly shoved him off. "What the devil are you doing, _Potter_?!" The blond attempted a sneer, trying to hide his surprise as he stared coldly at his saviour, showing no gratitude to the classmate who had just saved him from a near-beating.

Then, suddenly, the older darker figure, vanished with a loud _crack_!

Draco clawed his own forearm. His cloak was torn, his arm obviously hurt from the way he had been held by the mysterious figure that had been shadowing him. He shoved Harry aside further and fled to the darker depths of Knockturn Alley, leaving Harry alone.

As he stumbled through the curved dark ruins of the alley, he only fled a little way before collapsing against the wall. Leaning against it, his arm now throbbed with sensational pain, a crimson colour staining his white shirt. He slid down the green, rotted walls until finally he curled into himself on the ground.

Harry's heart was still thudding madly in his chest, his breath rending his throat into ragged strips as he watched the stubbornly defiant Draco Malfoy stumble away. No sooner than the pale figure was swallowed by darkness, however, than a low cry of agony shuddered across the stone, throwing Harry from his bewilderment.

Leaping to his feet, he shuddered as the hairs on the back of his neck raised on end. He spun on his heel, pointing his wand to the alley behind him, all the while backing towards the darkness of the turning Malfoy had disappeared into. They were not alone in the alley. Had the stranger come back? Knowing the company Malfoy's father kept, Harry thought that any reinforcements would not be welcome…

Hermione had always insisted he was stubbornly brave – to a fault. _Perhaps she was right,_ he thought as he backed away with desperation clawing at his chest like the stitch in his side. _Sod this; she's definitely right if I'm thinking of helping Draco Malfoy…_

With a final, cautious brandish of his wand, Harry turned and darted to the fallen blond he could see just ahead in the passage. The sparse light from the slice of wintry sky visible far above caught that head of flaxen hair and alabaster skin, calling him forward like a beacon.

Draco's eyes widened until they hurt and even his own rapid breaths became silent.

"Malfoy, what have you done?" Harry asked to the dimness, jerked from his reverie when that pale hand he had held laxly swiped his hands away angrily.

Draco's head felt a little hazy. The blood had made him feel faint; he was never very good at holding his own and made a point of over-dramatising everything. Sucking it up, he rolled up his sleeve and pulled out his wand. Bandages burst from the tip, wrapping around his marred arm as he watched them fasten tight around the wound.

His arm burned with unexplainable pain, each little movement was agony. He clenched his eyelids tightly shut, instinctively keeping his wand aloft as a means of protection, until he realised it was Harry Potter looking down at him with wide eyes.

Harry stooped at his school rival's side, struggling to decide his next move as he watched that body convulse in sincere pain. Steeling his resolve, his arm reached forward, snatching away Draco's hand that clawed desperately at his opposite forearm. But he was not prepared for what he saw. Not the sight of a furiously inflamed Dark Mark _bleeding_ through the bandages.

Draco felt ashamed somehow that Harry was seeing him like this, in such wretched pain. Masking his agony, he glared at the darker-haired wizard. "Get lost, Potter," he spat as Harry held out a hand to help him. Draco continued to push him away. He didn't want help; he was capable of looking after himself! He stumbled up, hearing a dreaded third set of footsteps somewhere close-by. "You should leave, Harry," Draco commanded, as he tried to escape further into the darkness and away from Harry. But in stumbling away, he collided with that ominous third set of footsteps.

"Father!" Draco cried as Lucius Malfoy appeared, considering him a moment before glancing over his shoulder at Harry, whom seemed speechless. "Mr Potter, I advise you leave here at once – I have Draco now."

It maybe the only time Lucius had ever been wiling to advise Potter of his proximity to peril, of the danger that would arise if he were to stay in the alley much longer. It was knowing Harry had been concerned for his son, that incited the feeling that he almost owed Harry a warning that Lord Voldemort was coming, even if he didn't say it in so many words

Lucius took hold of Draco's arm and vanished. Just a single flash and a crack of apparition and Harry was alone in the cold black darkness. The wintry breeze rustled his hair as he remained on his knees, blinking in confusion at whirlwind of events that had yet to register in his mind. Finally, a frown creased his brow and he stumbled to his feet, not pausing to brush the dirt from himself as he raced back through the alley the way he'd come.

Everything was happening so quickly. A searing agony swept over his scar, causing him to sway in his hastened steps, but Lucius Malfoy's words rang clearly with their foreboding message – Voldemort was nearby. Harry could feel it. The light, the hope of Diagon Alley lay ahead at the mouth of the tunnel-like darkness of Knockturn Alley and his fingers numbed from the cold around his wand as he burst into the world of light again.

Suddenly screams of panic shattered his momentary relief. Chaos exploded from the midst of his hope and crowds were rushing towards him. He cried out in pain as he was carelessly shoved aside, flying back against the wall. What was happening?

"Harry!"

He turned to see Ron and Hermione fighting their way through the stampede to reach him. Hermione's hand seized him roughly by the arm, her eyes wide with terror as she held out her other hand impatiently with Ron.

"Hurry!" She called back to him. The red-head bolted forwards, throwing himself at her hand. A whoosh of magic with the force of a gale threw them into the wall and Harry's scar burned with an intensity that made his skull feel like it would split open. He felt Hermione's arm and Ron's weight crushing him more than ever, and the menacing glimpse of masked, cloaked figures he knew all too well was all he caught before he felt a force seize his middle, hurtling him away from the madness.

Pain (something he knew all too well) split across his back as they landed on the doorstep of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and he lost his footing, slipping back with a crash into the door. A wince distorted his features and a low hiss escaped his lips as he cracked his eyes open to see a flustered Ron and Hermione watching him with apprehension.

He knew what they were thinking.

He had put them all in danger by running off like that. He had been liberated from Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays for but a few days and he had already insisted they rush off recklessly. They should have been more careful, cast glamours on themselves or taken some Order members with them. And more importantly (and confusingly) he'd run off, had abandoned his friends in potential danger without thinking, all because his thoughts had been so suddenly consumed by Draco Malfoy.

He shook his head, signalling to his closest friends his lack of answer. There was nothing he could say. All he knew was that Draco had been in trouble and he had felt an unbearable urge to help him. Ever since he had seen him, heard his terror at the task he'd been handed at the Astronomy tower, he had possessed this need. Draco hadn't wanted to kill anyone, and Harry didn't want anyone to punish him for that.

But Voldemort had summoned him – and he was afraid! He hadn't wanted to go! Harry paused on the doorstep, hovering on the threshold even when Hermione and Ron had stepped inside. Draco was going to be punished, maybe tortured for failing, for refusing the Dark Lord. _And even more for letting me escape,_ he realised, and his lungs heaved uselessly. His chest suddenly felt constricted. Draco Malfoy was in trouble, and Harry felt a pull towards nowhere in particular but onwards.

A soft yet impatient cough from Hermione finally drew him in the door and he passed her a sheepish glance before hurrying upstairs. She wanted answers, no doubt, but how could he explain to her… How could he offer the only ridiculous explanation he had?! Harry shut the door to the musky old Black's library loud enough to signal he didn't want to be followed just yet. There was a moment, where he paused at the bookshelf, before he launched himself at it, tearing a few from the shelves.

He had felt this pull, this indescribable _call_ to Draco Malfoy ever since that battle in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Where he had cast _Sectumsempra,_ where he had unwittingly… _Where I nearly killed him_, he thought. Even now, guilt surged in his throat like the foul taste of bile at the memory of Draco lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood – blood he, _Harry_ had drawn. Ever since then, he had felt connected, had felt anxious for no reason – when Draco was in danger no doubt, felt…_everything._

Flipping open the first of the large volumes, Harry chewed his lip distractedly as he thumbed his now only lightly aching scar. There was only one thing similar to this feeling, to this connection he felt with Draco; his connection to Voldemort!

_Voldemort nearly killed me, but his spell backfired because of love, _he thought. _And I nearly killed Draco. _Some connections must be born out of fatal spells, he supposed but he hadn't used the Killing Curse and Draco didn't love him, or anyone present at the time. So many unanswered questions, so many mysteries he was sure only Malfoy could clarify, and that was why he had to be found – answers. But also, because somehow, they'd forged this unexplainable bond and it was betraying Malfoy's fear all-too clearly…

Figures draped in black stood in a ritualistic circle. Draco froze beside his father as the atmosphere changed – death was nearby.

Lord Voldemort had arrived.

The clouds above never seemed so dim, daylight didn't know how to reach them here. Since the return of _He Who Must Not Be Named_, Draco had noticed that there were less and less days of the childish brightness, the carefree trivialities he took pleasure in and it terrified him.

Lord Voldemort approached Draco (as if to savour the taste of his fear) and placed his long, spidery fingers on his pure, pale skin. Untainted by sin, something which Voldemort fervently desired to change with the evil ploys that burned inside his cruel, twisted mind. Those fingers seized young Draco by the collar, drawing him closer and closer until his vile lips were close upon his pale ear.

"You must get close to Harry Potter. I want you to bring him to me. I am depending on you…_Draco_," The Dark Lord whispered. Lucius Malfoy stood, anxious. Seeing Lord Voldemort lay his hands on his son made him feel very uneasy. But he didn't dare voice that aloud. For all their sake's.

Draco shivered, unable to speak, yet he forced himself. "I can do it." All the Death Eaters deemed to smile, in their own demented ways and Voldemort bowed his head slightly.

"I know you can."

Lucius stepped forward. "But my Lord, he is just–"

"ENOUGH!" Lord Voldemort bellowed and silence fell over them once again. "Since your failure, _Lucius_, Draco has become far more valuable to me then you," Voldemort sneered, turning away from him as he floated back over to Draco. "And besides, he has _yet_ to earn that mark on his arm…"

Lucius knew better, Voldemort didn't care about Draco's welfare and if he died, it was just another necessary sacrifice in the process of achieving his goal. Draco was being used, being lead to believe that he would be some sort of hero if he succeeded. But what he and his peers did not realise was Draco didn't care about that anymore, had long since lost interest in the childish rivalry and jealousy of Harry Potter. He had discovered where that jealousy was coming from and that was only making things more complicated for him. But he would go along with Lord Voldemort's plan, if only to please him for the time being. Until he found a way out…

Lucius braved speech once more. "Mr Potter knows that Draco is a Death Eater. Once he reveals him, once they see the mark at that school do you really think they are going to let Draco back?"

"You forget your _place_," Voldemort sneered once more, his final warning. He was fuming; the look in his snake-like eyes bore a sensational malice, informing Lucius that he would do better to stop talking.

He was right though, Harry knew Draco was a Death Eater. He had seen him up in the tower where Dumbledore had fallen and in the alley only moments before this gathering. This, however, did not concern Lord Voldemort, he was determined in his choices. "Do not disappoint me, Draco," he breathed, removing his spindly digits from Draco's shivering shoulder.

As if at once, the Death Eaters ascended into the darkness above, leaving Draco and his father alone in the murky, dilapidated place they had been summoned to.

Lucius flourished his wand over Draco's marked forearm – a glamour. The magic unfolded, enveloping the tattoo and concealing it as if it were never there. "That should do," He assured his son thoughtfully, dwelling on his impossible situation of being unable to save his only child.

It seemed that recent days carried a fog that no sunlight could penetrate. The empty void of Harry's Christmas holidays had drawn to a close without any of the things he thought he should possess. Sirius was dead, and the Weasleys' attempts to improve upon that were appreciated but unsuccessful. In truth, Harry had spent the majority of the time pursuing leads on a nearby Horcrux (staying at Grimmauld Place had helped more than he thought). But the successful retrieval of the _genuine_ Locket of Slytherin did not appease his misery any.

"Harry?" Ron's voice awoke Harry from his pensiveness. Abandoning his trunk with the others, Harry followed after his suspicious friends, staring determinedly at Hedwig's cage.

"Harry, are you quite alright?" Hermione called back to him and Harry shrugged, taking the opportunity to glance up into the Slytherin's carriage. The pull was tugging at his chest, calling him in, but he remained in place. He needed to speak to Malfoy…

"_Harry_!"

"Come on, Mate, think you need a sit down," Ron suggested helpfully. Harry just nodded, but then paused on the threshold into the compartment Hermione had chosen (the last compartment before the Slytherin's carriage).

"Take Hedwig for me?" Harry asked, handing his friends the cage, "I'm just going to hunt down the Food Trolley, think I might be peckish."

"Pick me up a Liquorice Wand?" Ron asked, his words punctuated by a grumble from Hermione which sound painfully like '_it's always about food…'_

It startled Harry, how easy his friends took his pathetic lies. He was never good at lying, but maybe they were just all _too good_ at accepting his need for secrets.

Stopping at the gateway to trouble, Harry struggled to make himself see reason. If he strolled in there right now, into a carriage full of Death Eater's children, he was setting himself up for chaos. Raising his gaze however, he saw that the space was vacant but for a handful of students. _Most of them must have stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas_, he thought, and with his final obstacle eliminated, he marched forward before he could think better of it.

The call was unbearable. It made tingling shocks of electricity lace the hairs on his arms though the sharp pain in his chest was dissipating. _It's because he's right there, _he thought, approaching the blond who sat near the centre of the carriage, staring out through the steamed up windows, oblivious to his presence. _It's because I'm getting closer to him_. The thought made his cheeks inflame and he swallowed his embarrassment. He was not this obsessed with Draco Malfoy! It was answers he wanted! It was a solution to this insane call that he had almost no choice but to answer.

Malfoy must have been near-immune to this _bond,_ or at least insanely good at disguising his reactions for he did not so much as look up at him as he approached.

Draco gazed outside; fields flew past as blurs as the train chugged along. For a few moments, he felt blissfully lost in thoughtlessness. Staring into the endless beyond made him calm and somewhat safe from the horrors inside his head. But such bliss was not meant to last. All-too-soon his relaxation was shattered by a small twitching feeling in his neck and shoulders. A thought of Potter flashed instantly across his mind before it calmed again. He glanced without moving his head to the carriage door to the rest of the train. He jolted his head sideways at the sensation that returned for a final pinch before forcing that feeling from the forefront of his mind and masked any sign of uncertainty with a curious frown, keeping his focus ahead of him.

Pansy grinned at him oddly, one of the few girls who had travelled home over the holidays. "Are you alright, Draco?" She asked. He took a while to reply, and when he did, all she was offered was a "Yeah" in a dullest tone. With that she got to her feet and headed in the opposite direction to the carriage Harry was standing in, evidently requiring use of the toilet.

Harry's stomach clenched with odd sensations as he watched the slytherin girl disappear in direction of the toilet, and thankful that Draco was now seated alone, (as he had been a lot since the start of last term, oddly enough) Harry slid into the seat opposite Malfoy. The pressure of the bond dissipated into nothingness but for the hum of electricity between them that Malfoy seemed not to notice. In fact, he didn't seem to notice anything at _all…_

After a moment of struggling to find his voice, Harry braved speech. "Malfoy, we need to talk." Each of the other Slytherins in the carriage inclined their heads to look at him, eavesdropping! But at last, Draco – _Malfoy_ acknowledged his presence.

Draco was alarmed by Harry's voice, demanding a word from him and his attention fixed on him instantly – along with the rest of the eyes in the Slytherin carriage. Draco leapt to his feet and seizing Harry by the collar, he dragged him bodily into the narrow section that separated the carriages. Locking the doors that lead into the Gryffindor and Slytherin carriages, he drew down the blinds on either window.

Harry swallowed nervously. This was rather _close. _

Draco glared down at Harry in an attempt to disguise the feeling rising up in him at their close proximity. "Make this quick, Potter," Draco sneered, suddenly recalling Lord Voldemort's orders. '_Get close to him.'_ He shoved that thought away. He wasn't sure what he was going to do about that situation with the Dark Lord, he hadn't really had a chance to think about it, but one thing was for sure, he knew deep down, he didn't want Potter killed.

Draco gazed down at Harry, his eyes appeared cold, and his hair had seemed paler than it had ever been before. He slammed his left hand on the wooden carriage wall and peered over Harry, shadowing him like a Dementor, _waiting_ for some sort of reaction…

Harry swallowed hard, thankful that Draco had taken his hand away from his collar, the brief contact had sent a furious sensation of static surging down his body – from such a brief, unintentional touch to his neck. He twisted his head to the side unconsciously as he recalled the bizarre experience. How ridiculous, that he should be reduced to shudders when Draco was not even _phased_! That indignant, self-pitying realisation reminded him of his purpose, and he focused his gaze on the drawn blind.

"I saw you in the tower," he stated lamely, and although he knew the statement was likely to unnerve the Slytherin. The blond remained still. Harry cleared his throat, swearing that those storm grey eyes were burning into his turned cheek. "You failed your '_mission'_ right?"

Draco lowered his head, his white-blond strands brushing against Harry's nose. He felt a rush of anger boil within him. Harry was right, he had 'failed' his mission, his _father_ and that made him feel weak, _pathetic_ and only continued to frustrate him further. Frustration that automatically saw a target in Potter.

"Prove it, Potter," Draco glared. "No one at Hogwarts will believe anything you say. Whatever mission it was you think I failed, you have no way of proving it." Draco looked aside; realising people were gaining closer on them at seeing the silhouettes of students gathering from each side.

"And as for the incident in the alley, _you _can believe and think you saw whatever you want." Draco slammed the door leading to Slytherin open, leaving a flustered Harry to himself once more and returned to his seat with a rather disgusted look on his face. His dark mark was pulsating beneath the spell which had concealed it menacingly and he struggled to hide the pain.

Harry winced at the sound of the door slamming against the compartment and rushed after Malfoy. This was going completely wrong. A frown creased his brow and his voice strengthened as he seized the _marked_ forearm and yanked the blond back to him. "I was in the tower, Malfoy," he hissed for Malfoy's ears only, "_Hidden_ but present nonetheless so drop the denial rubbish because I saw it all."

Fury was creeping across Draco's face and Harry _felt _that anger, as if it were not his own. The same way he felt Voldemort's anger. So he pressed on. "You were ordered to kill Dumbledore or _He _would kill you? But you didn't kill him – you can interpret that as an insult but I believe it brave. The kind of bravery I never thought you of all people possessed…" He shook his head as he felt it cloud with the perplexing haze Malfoy's stare incited, and his voice lowered even more.

"That wasn't what I came here to say," He clarified, "Back in the alley… Voldemort was summoning you and you didn't want to go – you were afraid! Your father had to _force_ you to go!" His words were but a desperate hiss once more and he watched with trepidation as Malfoy's face flushed with fury, the arm under Harry's grasp tensing as if to strike him.

"That wasn't what I came to say either," Harry rushed on, realising how ridiculous this may sound, but it seemed that Malfoy had reached his limit for his pathetic ramblings, for he snatched his arm from Harry's grasp and drew back with a sneer.

"What?!'' Draco snarled. He felt the blood inside him boil to the point of explosion. It infuriated him to think Potter could see inside his head this way. He hated that Harry Potter of all people had seen him act so weak, so feeble and unable to carry out the orders he had accepted. Even if Potter didn't see it as a weakness, Draco couldn't help but let his own thoughts of how pathetic he must have seemed that night in the Tower consume him.

That anger inside Draco built up once more, to impossible heights and he shoved Harry off, throwing him forcefully backwards into the compartment door. Harry crashed hard against it, causing the eavesdropping students to jump as it rattled.

Draco slammed open the opposite door and returned to his seat, fuming with un-vented rage. The close contact with Harry made him feel somewhat wobbly, but he could hardly admit such a thing…

Pansy glanced at him briefly (having long since returned from the toilet). Even if Potter was unaware, she could see clearly the confusion and pain in Draco eyes, she could see it as he drifted to a distance place, no matter how much he denied it. She didn't dare say anything to him about it.

Draco sat rigid in his chair for the rest of the ride to Hogwarts, trying somehow to comprehend how he was going to deal with the task the Dark Lord had set him and Potter's determination to be involved in it all. His mind was on constant alert, tossed to-and-fro with the tide of the pledge he had made. He did not want to fight.

_~To Be Continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**(Bound By) Clandestine Addiction**  
[Chapter Two]

Harry's pulse raced as he walked ahead of Ron and Hermione to the Great Hall. They had set out together but the call, the tug of Draco Malfoy's presence hurried him down towards the great doors, and everything he was about to say was playing out in his head as he stepped through them into the Great Hall. The misty January morning hung gloomily above from the enchanted ceiling. As ever, there was no sun.

Breakfast was already underway and the noise of the excited students greeting each other again after their Christmas break added to the low buzz that approaching Malfoy incited. _He's here, I can feel it,_ he thought, flushing profusely when he realised his thoughts. A glimpse of platinum-blond hair was all he needed and his feet seemed to move before he had even registered the sight.

Breakfast and the 'welcome back' chaos provided enough cover that no one noticed he had even stepped into the hall, not even when he marched right up to the spot where Malfoy sat. He stood there for a moment, knowing the blond hadn't noticed him, and realised (with dread) that he had forgotten every single thing he had thought to say. His mind had gone blank, as vacant as Malfoy's expression as he poked uselessly at the egg on his plate with evidently no intention of eating it whatsoever.

From the place that had taken at the Gryffindor table, Hermione and Ron glanced over at Harry, who had wandered away again instead of joining them. He kept doing that.

"Something feels wrong," Hermione suggested warily, watching Ron, waiting for a more sober reaction as he shovelled down as much food as he could fit in down his throat.

"Hmm?" He murmured, struggling to be serious once he noticed Hermione's anxiety.

"Malfoy?" Harry said finally.

The said-boy stiffened, signaling he had heard, but did not turn to face him – although a good few of the other slytherins did. Sometimes they wondered if Harry liked hearing himself speak.

Harry thought for a moment, casting a glance down the table to ascertain that the closest Slytherin was a good few spaces away and they had little chance of being overhead. Still, he drew his wand as inconspicuously as possible.

"_Muffliato_!" He breathed, and he knew to the rest of the student body, their following _conversation_ (most likely _argument_) would be but a dull, incomprehensible hum. And surely enough, almost immediately after, the other slytherins turned away and back to there meal, unaware that the conversation had continued.

Suddenly, Draco spun in his seat to face him, whether at his whisper, impatience or at the feeling of a wand drawn to his back, Harry wasn't sure, but he looked _less_ than pleased.

Draco leapt to his feet swiftly, disgusted that Harry had raised his wand at him, that was until he realized why…

He tore out his own wand, pressing it to Harry's neck in defense until it was denting his throat. He held it there for a few moments, staring coldly into green eyes, before lessening the pressure on Harry's throat.

There was that electrical charge once again, buzzing through him. Exactly like on the train. He forced it from the forefront of his mind and shook his head from side-to-side, showing Harry a little weakness for the first time. Though it was possible Harry may not have even noticed, Draco had after all, become extremely adept at masking his pain and forging his mind into an almost impenetrable fortress. Perfecting Occlumency with the help of Professor Snape last year had proven profitable (and life-saving) numerous times already…

Draco felt so frustrated part of him actually wanted to _hit_ Harry, though he knew better than to make a scene (greater than the one he was already creating) in the great hall where the staff and the hall-full of students would see. Every time Harry came in close contact, he felt something beneath his skin that was unearthly and bizarre…

It worried him.

"Didn't you get enough on the train, _Potter_?" Draco snarled, unable (this time) to control his fury.

"I…I just needed answers," Harry gasped lamely against the wand at his throat, his eyes trailing up the wood, then the arm holding it. That insane buzzing beneath his skin, it made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and the storm raging in those grey eyes signaled that Draco recalled Harry's inability to get to the point last time, meaning he wouldn't be given much of a chance to speak…

"Do you have a scar from the…the time in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" He asked at last, his voice lowered to a guilty whisper despite the fact that the spell was protecting their words from prying ears. When Draco looked confused, Harry reluctantly elaborated. "When I cast _Sectumsempra_ on you…?"

Draco lowered his wand, somewhat stunned. He half-expected Harry to give him some lecture about the Dark Mark on his arm. He glanced left to right, then right to left again. Nope, No one could hear them.

"Why do you care?" Draco hissed.

The only physical scar that remained unhealed was a pale, opalescent mar of his otherwise perfect chest, directly over his heart; the source of that buzzing that sent tingles across his shoulders and neck every now and again, overflowing him with images of the great Harry Potter. He didn't know why, but lately it seemed, he thought of Harry more and more, sometimes without even realising its increase or significance.

Since that haunting day in the bathroom, it was as though he and Harry were still caught there sometimes, he, Draco lying in a pool of his own blood and Harry looking down over him with a stunned, cold expression that Draco foolishly mistook for hate. He had even been _treated_ to a few nightmares in which that memory played over and over, until he awoke, screaming in overwhelming confusion. But as with everything else, it was locked away, forced out, all of it. He didn't want to be reminded of Harry, because somehow it hurt.

"I hurt you! I just…Well I didn't mean to!" Harry declared, that buzzing so intense he felt something swell up his suddenly constricted throat causing him to stutter. Why did this feel like his soul wanted to explode out his mouth? Why did he want to declare every misery, every pain to Draco so that he knew him better than anyone else?

"I've never regretted anything more in my life, Malfoy," he said quietly, noticing the way that those eyes, watching him from behind thick lashes had softened in a way he had never seen them. His heart skipped a beat. His fingers tingled. Draco never looked at anyone else like that (that he knew of) and he liked that far more than he should. "When I saw you on the floor I wished you'd hit me with the spell instead," he punctuated his self-loathing words with a small laugh, before mumbling (more to himself than to Malfoy), "At least then it would all be over…"

As Potter spoke, Draco couldn't conceal the slight smile that escaped the side of his mouth. He'd never imagined Harry Potter would admit something like that, least of all to him, and face-to-face. Such a blatant display of vulnerability, of weaknesses to be abused. He brushed off his smile as Harry continued to speak.

"_At least then it would all be over…" _

Those words rang clear in Draco's ears, shattering his reverie. Draco groaned, he had never heard Potter sound so pathetic. The _Chosen One_, wasn't he meant to be the one who would teach you to fight for your life, not wish it was over? Though after a lifetime in Potter's position, it would be easy to see how he came to such drastic wishes.

Nevertheless, hearing him talking of his life so callously, it made Draco realize then just how strong the Dark Lord's thrall was becoming. How overpowering it was for Potter, the last hope of the _other side_. Which meant less time for him to figure out what he was going to do…

"Meet me in the Room of Requirement after fourth period, we will talk then," Draco said suddenly, realising that people would soon begin to get suspicious if they stayed there silent any longer, just staring each other down. At least that's what people were seeing from the outside (it had been a miracle no one had noticed the scuffle with drawn wands earlier).

It was noble for Harry to open up to him, _Draco_ like that and tell him how he had regretted nearly taking his life. He felt that meant he owed Harry somehow for that courage and falsely placed confidence. And with that, Draco turned away from him returning to the other slytherins at his table.

Harry's brow furrowed as he flourished his wand. "_Finite Incantatum_!" He murmured, ending the spell and wondering how on earth he would find the Room of Requirement if he didn't know what they would be using it for. Realising that now the spell was over people were beginning to stare at him, Harry moved back to the Gryffindor table, praying that the sheer fact Draco would be waiting in there for Harry to find him would permit him entry to the room.

Harry seized his cutlery and launched an immediate attack on his plate in order to avoid the questioning glares Hermione was passing him. Ron just glanced at him thoughtfully, before spearing another piece of bacon and concentrating on his food.

"Harry," Hermione began tentatively and Harry visibly stiffened, he knew what that tone meant. It meant questions, he groaned mentally in anticipation. Though luckily, as the questions began, so did their first lesson, not that that meant they weren't going to continue this conversation.

As they all walked to potions class, she continued to persist – relentlessly! "_Harry_!"

Hermione paused for a moment. She could see that Harry didn't want to be questioned and how the signal for Potions class had given him some brief hope of distraction (as opposed to the usual dread). Discomfort was deeply engraved into his features, but as his best friend she had a right – no – she had an obligation to be sure he was okay "What's going on?" She pried, and Ron continued for her…

"We thought things were weird when you returned with nothing from the trolley on the train, mate," The red-head elaborated. Both of them stared at him, waiting for some kind of explanation, one they suspected either would not come or would be untrue.

"Harry, you don't think were honestly that stupid, do you?" Hermione asked, her face betraying signs of frustration. "We didn't question it then, but there's only so much secrecy we can put up with. What is going on with Malfoy?"

It seemed that Harry (and indeed Ron) would be forever flabbergasted at how methodical she was. Harry sighed heavily, how could he have underestimated her wits after all this time? Ron maybe, but not Hermione…

Harry shifted nervously in his seat and pulled out his potions books, delaying the moment when he would have to answer. He could feel the weight of Hermione's glare and Ron's questioning gaze however, and sure enough when he was forced to finally face them, they were watching him expectantly.

"About that," Harry began, watching his own fingers as they fiddled absently with his quill. "I just…it isn't something I can…" He growled under his breath in frustration at the guilt rising in his throat. Why did he feel like he had to keep these things from them? "I can't tell you."

"But Harry," Hermione started, flicking a loose ringlet of hair back behind her ear. "We want to help you; obviously it's bothering you… And I…" She paused for a brief moment, "I'm scared for you." She felt a little cut off when Harry kept things from them, she hated it. "Ron, say something!" Hermione demanded, when Harry remained silent.

Ron glanced over to Harry "Well I…" He began before looking back to Hermione. "It's Harry's decision to tell us or not."

She could never work out what it was but in all the years Hermione had known them, they had this silent way of communicating, Ron would always begin to assist in her challenging of Harry, then stop and opt out to support him following some secret signal she could not comprehend. With a frustrated huff, she reluctantly turned her attention to the task the Professor had set. The feelings this lesson were awkward, but Harry seem determined to stick to his guns. He wasn't going to spill for anyone.

"I can't handle this," snarled Draco. He had become so bitter and distant from his surroundings this year, (even the slytherins) as if he had lost his place in his old world altogether. "Divination is a waste of my time," He spat, slamming his chair across the room and storming out mid-lesson. The class stared in awe as he made his over dramatic exit. But he had other, more pressing things on his mind.

It never ceased to amaze him how the Room of Requirement always appeared different and he knew he was there early, but he was anxious and he couldn't sit in Divination class dwelling on what may or may not happen. The room was always equipped to a person's needs, in this case, the room was draped in long black curtains and decorated with floating mirrors arranged all around him, midair, without a single blind spot. Every movement that was made would be on show for the other to see, they would both be completely exposed. The room altered to his needs, even unconscious ones it seemed as he only possessed a vague idea of why he would require the room to look this way.

Suddenly, the door cracked open, a low eerie screech of the door's need for oil summoning Draco's attention. A head appeared anxiously round the doorway, though the face (though expected) strangely did nothing to ease the tension of the room.

Harry's eyes widened as he laid eyes on Draco, and felt his words catch in his throat. There was a moment, where he froze in the doorway, silhouetted against the orange light from the halls of the Seventh Floor. When common sense beckoned him in and he had completed the (purposefully drawn out) task of closing the door, Harry swallowed hard, steeling his wavering nerves as he approached the middle of the room.

That same electricity clung to every particle of air that breezed past him. It made every hair on his body prickle in anticipation, it made his stomach lurch as if he were about to lose his lunch (or lack thereof). "I err…I was early so… I didn't think you'd be here." Harry's eyes scanned the dim room, warmed by its security, its _privacy_, yet unnerved by it at the same time. In the countless reflections of Malfoy he caught the briefest flicker of anxiety, before the feeling swelled up inside Harry like water in an air-tight room.

Draco was apprehensive of what Harry might think of the room. The room reflected what Draco felt he required, even if he were not aware of it consciously. A small smirk crept across Harry's lips as he stopped a few feet from the real Malfoy, knowing that if they were to get too close, if they were to touch…

_There's no way I can concentrate and say what I _still _haven't told him about the bond, if he touches me,_ he thought, almost disappointedly. His face flushed at that. What was _wrong_ with him? _Wanting_ to be touched by Draco Malfoy? Ditching class to come see him early, feeling excited at seeing him! Harry shook his head. Everything was happening lightning fast and he couldn't make sense of it. It was like falling prey to a furious tide and being swallowed in the tempest. Everything with Draco was so fast and reckless, so unexpected. They had been since that day in the bathroom.

Emerald eyes, glistening with the sparse (far too intimate) light, tore away from the ethereal reflections that seemed to glow with an otherworldly radiance and came to rest upon the true Malfoy. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment. Harry's heart sped up to a frantic dance, those tingles tormenting his fingers and toes and the hair at the back of his head. It happened so quickly yet so subtly, that he was completely confused when Draco averted his gaze, avoiding eye contact with an awkward colouring to his cheeks. Was Draco embarrassed about looking at him?

Draco felt his insides jerk at Harry's image reflected in the mirror. At first he'd thought he was mistaken, surely Harry would have no reason to arrive early, and looking so…awkward? Draco's gaze met Harry's almost instantly. He flinched. There was that feeling again, that pull, that electricity, that heartache. He glanced away quickly.

For some reason, maintaining direct eye-contact with Harry fuelled that buzz and he wasn't willing to let it accelerate any further out of his control. He couldn't, he didn't _want _to, but that feeling had already consumed him, it was seeping through every muscle and every vein, weaving through into the weakest part of him, the organ that pounded away between his ribs and his lungs.

Draco knew full well Harry could not help but see that weakness now. He was exposed and unable to fit his mask back in place. How could the room believe he wanted this? His eyebrows indented inwards as he spoke, trying not to choke on his uncertain words. "I asked you to come here, because I… I feel I owe it to you – to tell you…"

He paused, Harry was silent. Draco groaned, that silence was tormenting him. He placed his index finger in his shirt collar loosening his tie from where it had been restricting his already irregular breathing. The pressure was squeezing his frantic heart harder, _harder_ and a single bead of sweat had formed upon his pale brow.

"Lord…_Voldemort_ is coming for you soon," Draco stuttered as he lost control of his words and his fear heightened. "He wants me to assist him – he wants me to…to deceive you and bring you to him and…and I simply…" Draco darted towards Harry and slamming him back against one of the mirrors with a sudden rush of fury, causing it to crack behind him.

There was something cold inside his eyes. Fear. Unadulterated fear.

"You have to _stay away from me_!" He shouted, feeling that electricity that Harry had felt so strongly overwhelm him. He drew back abruptly, huffing under his breath as he turned away. His blond hair hung into his eyes as they fixed determinedly to the floor; he could not tear them away, he could not face Potter…

Harry's eyes were wide with shock. A hand extended, and without thinking, without processing his movements, he brought it to rest over Malfoy's heart. The reaction was immediate. He felt Malfoy freeze beneath his fingertips, even his chest fell still from lack of breathing. The blond's head whipped back to him so fast it made Harry flinch, yet his hand remained, bonded to the boy's frantically pounding heart.

Their eyes met and static charged through his fingers where they touched. Harry gasped and he swore he saw Draco's body jolt with the intensity of it. There was a force between them, a magic coursing through their surging blood that neither could comprehend. Harry felt his cheeks colour, but did not budge. By Merlin, why was he standing there with his palm pressed over Draco's – _Malfoy's_ chest?!

"This is the only scar that remained?" Harry breathed, his voice all-but lost to the frantic throbbing of blood in his ears – _Draco's_ blood. "The one over your heart – the one that…almost killed you?" His voice was tense, apprehensive, as was his body, right down to the fingertips that remained trembling over Draco's chest. _Why am I doing this?_

Draco remained silent, evidently with shock, but his eyes finally dropped from Harry's, and fixed on the hand resting over his heart.

"That scar it's…it's like _mine_–" Harry gestured to his forehead with his free hand, "-But not." He watched as (even with his gazed fixed on that aforementioned hand) a frown creased Draco's perfect brow. Harry scoffed mentally. He did _not_ just think _Draco Malfoy_ was perfect…

"When I…when I cast the…the _spell_," Harry stammered, "I nearly killed you and I…" He growled under his breath at his inability to find his words with Draco's electricity pricking at every pore of his flesh. "I've read up on it – every day over the holidays – and I… _Merlin_, can't you feel the pull?" He gasped out, the sudden sureness, forcefulness and desperation to his voice failing to draw Draco's eyes back to his face. "There's a connection, a call and I…I _can't_ stay away from you! I have no idea why but it's the _bond _we suddenly have – and have had since that day in the bathroom. Can you feel this right now–" He tipped his head to where the static brewed where they were joined, "-Or are you every inch as oblivious to it as you seem?"

"I feel nothing," Draco answered coldly, Harry's hand still resting upon his chest. He lied. He had felt something, some kind of gravity drawing him in, making him want to see Harry – no, _need_ to see him, if only to stare for a moment. But he knew better, the more he saw of him, the more Voldemort's plan came to pass, and that was something Draco did not, _could not_ allow.

Something buried within Draco awoke to that touch and he stood frozen for a few seconds as Harry's hand remained still against his breathless chest. So many thoughts assaulted him, it was like an onslaught from every thought this boy had ever had. It was as if he could see into Harry's head, into Harry's heart, feel and taste the fear that Harry himself had felt over this endless battle with Voldemort. All the people he had loved and lost…_everything._

Harry had survived a lifetime of horrors, he now realised. The thought of seeing him in any more pain – Draco did _not_ just think that. The ridge of his nose wrinkled with distaste and his eyebrows drew together. "Now get _off_ of me," Draco hissed, batting Harry's hand aside. Despite this bond, Draco still felt exceedingly overwhelmed by what had happened in the bathroom that day. Even with Harry's apology, the lingering touch was too much…

Harry jerked back at the slap to his arm as if the swat had burned. He drew his wrist to his chest for a moment, mentally berating himself for being so brazen, so _ridiculous_ by _touching_ Malfoy, by following him around like a love-struck puppy. He stopped at that. This _wasn't_ love! His heart gave a furious jolt, painful for the first time, as if he were being punished for Draco's refusal and he winced, pondering surrender. No good could come of this, he thought, but as if sensing his rejection, the pain he felt coursing through their bond, Draco peered at him from behind a curtain of blond locks, a glimmer of concern flickering in those eyes…

It was so brief the snitch would have struggled to catch it, but Harry saw it and his ridiculous heart skipped a beat, his stomach jerked as if caught with whiplash. A small hopeful smirk brewed at Harry's lips, that Draco's words were not all what they seemed.

His fingers curled in, as if trying to keep the feeling of Draco's heartbeat against it in as long as possible. _Definitely like a needy, lovesick puppy_, he scolded himself with disgust, before turning the full intensity of his gaze on Malfoy. "The bond isn't like what I have with Voldemort," Harry stated, watching Malfoy twitch at the name. "I'm not drawn to him…like I am…with you. I don't know what this is but…when I'm – _we're_ apart it feels… I feel anxious, I feel _everything_ you are feeling and I know you're afraid, Malfoy, I…I am too…"

He took the risk of admitting a little more than he should, making himself that much more vulnerable and he hoped the risk was worth it. He peered up at the taller boy apprehensively. What was it about him, about this confounded bond between them that made him want to be vulnerable, wanted to be stripped bare for those eyes, so that Draco – _Malfoy_ understood everything?

Draco's feigned vacant expression didn't change much as he once again avoided eye contact with Harry. Then Harry mentioned Voldemort's name, causing Draco to sigh as he twitched.

"_I feel everything you are feeling and I know you're afraid, Malfoy, I…I am too." _Draco groaned as those words replayed in his head. "I am not afraid, Potter!" He denied childishly, he lied. He was terrified.

Draco knew he needed to stay even more cut-off from Potter than he had been in previous years. Draco's first years were full of resentment and jealously of '_the great Harry Potter,'_ whose strengths were rubbed in his face at every turn, but he didn't want Potter dead. People always misread him. Even the one person who should have seen through him, and that person _was_ Harry.

Why couldn't he _see_ he was trying to protect him? Probably because Draco still hadn't admitted that fact to himself. But Potter was supposed to be smarter than this.

As Draco looked up from under his white-blond strands, he examined Harry's face, adorned with a look he had never seen before. "You are pathetic, Potter," Draco spat, as if emphasising that kind of nasty, uncalled for comment onto Harry would be a means to keep him away. "Run along home to _Mummy_, why don't you?" He laughed grudgingly, punctuating the all-too convincing laughter with a sarcastic mutter of "_scared"_ under his breath.

Draco finished with an unreal look of disgust overwhelming his face and he strode forwards, shoving passed Potter, making sure to bash him heavily in the side as he made his exit.

Draco rushed down the (thankfully empty) halls, he had to get away so that Potter would not see the expression that had suddenly consumed his face… It hurt (far more than he liked) to be so cruel to Potter, maybe more so because he had _felt_ exactly how much it had hurt…

Harry wasn't sure how long he stood there, but by the time he tumbled back to reality, the torches had burnt out and the only source of light was the reflections from the mirrors. The memory of white-blond hair mixed with Draco's disgust…they brought with them a dark, hopelessness Harry hadn't felt in such a long time. Everything had been tense, had been hard ever since Sirius had died, then Dumbledore but this bizarre connection with Draco, it offered him something, something he had not realised the significance of until just now, when Draco had torn it away…

He had no real intention of making his way down to lunch. It was only just lunchtime and he had skipped his previous lesson – his early arrival would undoubtedly rouse suspicion. _And besides which, Draco is probably down there telling them a twisted tale of how pathetic the Chosen One is following him around making puppy-dog eyes,_ he thought bitterly. _How could I _be _anymore fucked up?_

It was unconsciously decided that he would go to Gryffindor Tower until lunch was over; the main appeal being that it would be empty (forsaken for the great hall and lunch no doubt). So his suddenly weighted, reluctant feet brought him to the Fat Lady.

He was so tired, so shattered from everything that he wondered if anyone would _ever_ bother to stoop and pick up the pieces. _If anyone would even notice I'm broken,_ he thought miserably, thinking of the scolding he was in for from Hermione once she discovered he had missed a lesson (which he knew she would). Another appeal of the empty common room – no need to hide his emotions from his all-too caring friends…

The portrait closed behind him and he stumbled miserably into the abandoned common room, looking to sink into one of the comfy chairs and sulk for a good while – except the common room wasn't empty. His stomach lurched. _Great exactly what I needed, _he thought, immediately scolding himself for his selfishness as he watched an intimately entwined Hermione and Ron tear themselves away from each other to the limits of the sofa they were stretched out on.

Draco rushed down stairway towards his dormitory. His blood was boiling, but this time, with anger for himself. Charging into his Slytherin quarters, a flourish of his wand whipped up a glass of freezing water that he threw over his head, cascading over his hair and dousing his heated neck, where it cleansed him of the sweat that had stifled him in the Room of Requirement.

The rivulets chased each other across his flustered flesh, cooling the red-hot madness that Harry's touch had stirred in him. He was like a madman staring at the full moon, baying at it like an animal – every time he touched it, looked upon it in all its glory he fell a little deeper into his insanity.

He shook his head almost immediately at that thought, the rivulets splattering the floor and his hair hung limply around his flushed features with the water's weight, effectively hiding his expression. He was under pressure. He was finding it hard to keep the Dark Lord's few attempts of intrusion into his own mind at bay. That was without the confusion incited by this pull to Harry, the all-but unbearable force that was becoming stronger every second…

"Harry?" Both Ron and Hermione chimed in panic as he walked in on them.

"Harry are you alright?" Hermione asked, adjusting her clothing swiftly as she became very suddenly concerned by the pale misery poisoning Harry's (what seemed to be very teary) face. Though despite her having completely thrown aside the embarrassment of being caught snogging Ron's face off, Ron still shifted uncomfortably as he got to his feet.

"Yeah, mate you don't look too good." They both waited silently, passing each other a concerned grimace as their friend looked away from them – _again_!

"Harry, say something!" Hermione pressed him, her voice betraying her desperation. It was getting dark outside with the looming clouds of winter, dark in that suddenly very quiet room. The first day back after the holidays had never seemed so gloomy before.

Harry shrugged miserably, simply permitting Hermione to press her hand to his forehead. By the look on her face as she withdrew her hand, he knew she realised the sallow, paleness that had so suddenly soured his complexion was nothing to do with illness – at least not the medical kind. His self-loathing mind kept prodding him with the pitiful image of that love-sick puppy…

How could he be so foolish? Chasing around after someone – no – _Draco Bloody Malfoy_ – without anything but malice in return? The call was unbearable. Perhaps since they had parted on bad terms and without sating the need that had built up ever since the incident that had forged this connection, it was getting worse? He was not sure; he had hoped to work that out with Malfoy but…_evidently_…

"I'm fine, Hermione," He lied, (and very badly), lowering himself into the cosy chair nearest the fire and furthest from an awkward, embarrassed Ron who was sitting in such a way that Harry knew he was trying to suppress an erection. Harry stared into the cold, empty grate. What was wrong with him? He should be happy that his friends were finally breaching the boundaries of the 'shy stage', and he was – it just…happened to come at a bad time.

A long, exhausted sigh shuddered past his lips. This – _whatever_ it was between him and Draco – _Malfoy_ – had changed so swiftly and violently that he had not had time to assess the foreign feelings. He hadn't felt this way for Cho, or Ginny, both very immature, inconsequential crushes that had burnt brightly before flickering out. This was no such diminishing light. This was an inferno, a feeling alight with a furious blaze that made his throat dry with thirst for Malfoy, that marred his skin beyond any possible repair. Everything that was _anything_ in his life had dived over him as quick as lightning, this was no different, and he knew it would change him. He could feel it in his gut.

"It seems everything is always a secret with you lately, Harry," Hermione huffed, promptly grabbing Ron by the hand and dragging him from the Gryffindor common room. "Come on, Ron," she urged him. She had had enough of the lies; there was only so much she could take before needing to walk away completely, especially when she was absolutely certain he intended to keep her and Ron in the dark permanently.

"We will leave you to your thoughts," She called back to him bitterly. Ron stumbled as Hermione pulled him through the portrait and glanced at Harry before being dragged away by his pushy girlfriend.

"Errr, see you later, Harry," Ron murmured before they disappeared through the portrait hole. Harry could still hear their voices faintly though they were becoming more distant. A sigh tugged free of his lips and he relaxed into the chair exhaustedly, swearing he overheard mention of Luna and Ravenclaw, but it wasn't clear and he could not really find the strength to care.

Night was creeping in, ever closer. He had heard tell of a small party being held in the Ravenclaw quarters that evening to celebrate 'Loopy' Luna Lovegood making the house Quidditch team. From what he knew of her, she was probably the last person anyone imagined would end up in such a brutal game. Nevertheless, she was, and a seeker too, like both Harry and Draco were for their houses. Most of the students were to attend, even some of the slytherins talked about going (for the party more than the cause).

Draco, of course, didn't feel much like celebrating and didn't even look up as his '_friends' _disappeared to crash the party. He wasn't one to celebrate that kind of thing in any case but his mood had not risen to such frivolity for a long time. The slytherin quarters were all-but abandoned, deadly quiet, and that suited him just fine.

Draco approached his bed wearily before promptly collapsing on it. His arm was bleeding, the spell that his father had cast upon his arm had faded with the pain and his Dark Mark was blistering with crimson heat. He blanched at the site of his mangled arm and again, that urge arose in his core, for Harry.

His eyes shot open and he leapt up, expecting to find his bed with the green drapes drawn around him, shielding him from the darkness of his dormitory, but found himself on a couch in the common room. What had just happened? A vision?! The dungeons were quiet, so silent he swore he could hear most of the sounds radiating from the Ravenclaw party. He anxiously rolled up his sleeve, somewhat relieved to find his arm void of blood, but it still burned in warning. Something was about to happen…

Harry jolted awake with a start. Sweat dripped down his face, his nose; soaking his hair and making his pyjama shirt stick to his damp back revoltingly. He gasped for breath, fingers clenched white-knuckled in the sheets. The slowly dying moon peeked in through the gap in the crimson curtains drawn around his bed. He would really have to learn to perfect the Dreamless Draught in potions if he ever hoped to escape these…visions.

The confrontation between Draco and himself earlier had brought this on, he was sure of it. Dreams of the blond writhing as if in agony, still under the throws of nightmarish slumber. A Dark Mark engraved into alabaster skin, glaring blood-red, haunting Harry, until maniacal laughter stretched across the chasm of his mind, building to a deafening echo that made him feel like his skull would crack open.

After a moment, after his breathing had calmed, Harry reached across the bedside cabinet and swigged a glass of water, sighing as it soothed his throat, raw from screaming. Just across from him, Ron offered him a silently sympathetic look, before rolling over to put his back to him.

That was the good thing about Ron; he knew when to make his support known silently and not to pry. Harry rubbed his eyes exhaustedly, before throwing himself back down to the pillows. He wished Voldemort and Draco didn't take up so much room in his head. If they both continued to plague him so vigorously he was sure he'd have no room left for other thoughts!

His arm fell over his eyes, shielding them from the rest of the world. That once soft, gentle hum Draco incited was now a blistering heat creeping through his every limb. It felt like full-bodied sunburn without the scarring. He was so tired of this endless pursuit. He'd been back at Hogwarts two days and already it felt like an eternity.

He missed the easy days, where Hogwarts was a release, a safe-haven. Now, with a desire to be beside the one boy who would stop at nothing to push him away, he was missing the quiet solitude of Privet Drive, his prison, to which he would now never return…

He wanted to be somewhere where no one knew his name, where no one knew of Voldemort or the _Chosen One _– where Draco Malfoy was just a name and a hazy memory of a devil with an angel's face. He wanted away from his life, and every misery it brought. Harry harrumphed, pulling the duvet up over his head as he curled into himself. Shivers laced his spine, and his skin prickled with uncomfortable sensitivity. He _needed _Draco, and he loathed himself for it.

_~To Be Continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

******Please note this is the censored verson (no sex is shown and will be cut out). To read the sex scenes please visit the links on my profile page.**  


* * *

**(Bound By) Clandestine Addiction**  
[Chapter Three]

The noise from Ravenclaw had long since faded, but Draco hadn't slept, he couldn't. His mind was unable to break away from what the Dark Lord had asked of him. He hated that Potter had said it so openly and unashamedly…

_"I'm afraid…"_

Draco had never been more afraid of anything in all his life, but it seemed somewhat _more_ terrifying hearing Potter say it. He had been trying not to think about it, struggling to push it from his mind, but it was all he thought about, every second. And with every moment that passed, Draco felt part of himself become even more numb and unsteady.

Dawn was peering through the enchanted windows of the dungeon dormitories and the sun's first rays gave a feeble glimmer before dying behind the clouds. Draco felt fatigued from the lack of sleep and awkwardly perplexed about the countless hounding thoughts inside his head.

His neck was burning from where he had been up all night in the same position and all the muscles in his body seemed stiff, his back aching. A shower or _something _was definitely needed to appease the pain before he attempted the day's events. Creeping over to his trunk, he pulled out a fresh set of clothing, shampoo and some other toiletries before he quietly made his way out of the dormitory. He preferred to use the bathroom when not many people were awake, there was less chance of having to wait (or of being leered at half-naked).

The castle was cold on his feet as he tiptoed up the spiral stairs. It seemed like they only carpeted the common rooms these days, and forgot the rest of the castle. Making his way into the boys' bathroom, the walls shone with a blue, ethereal glow, the flames of the flaring torches glaring like crystals. Briefly, he caught his pale reflection, like a ghost, in the mirror as he walked towards the shower and flung his uniform over the railing.

Giving the handle on the shower a twist, he was greeted with a sensation of warmth trickling down his well-toned back. It was nice to feel – the warmth, cascading across his gradually easing muscles, especially in the privacy of the cold room.

Harry struggled to fall back to sleep, but found it impossible, and so it was that the breaking dawn found him sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring at the magical map of his father's creation. All self-loathing thoughts that usually accompanied his _obsession_ with this bond were pushed to the dark recesses of his confusing mind, as he scanned the Marauder's Map, his wand held aloft as a light. Finally catching the name he was searching for, a frown creased his brow. Draco wasn't in bed. That thought was confusing at first and then…

_Draco isn't in bed_, now the thought was somewhat…_exciting_!

He crawled from his bed, assessing that his dorm-mates were far into the realms of slumber as he stuck his wand and the map in his dressing-gown pocket and pulled his father's invisibility cloak over his head. His path down through the dormitory and the common room was slow, anxious and quiet, but as soon as he'd crept through the Fat Lady's portrait, his anticipation, the surge of excitement at obeying the call possessed him. The journey down the Grand Staircase was a blur, a chaos of flurried haste in the chase of the mark on the map – _Draco Malfoy._

Suddenly, he skidded to a halt, holding his breath in an effort to silence the frantic rasping for air. He had nearly skidded into Draco entering the boy's bathroom – _invisible!_ That was not a good idea, he knew Draco knew of the cloak (thanks to the incident on the train at the beginning of Sixth Year) but he didn't want to keep reminding him of something so precious and useful…

The bond was all-but _screaming_ in his ears now, blood pounding furiously as he carefully slid into the bathroom through the closing door, barely missing being caught by it. The bond was sating itself slowly, this was what he needed. He would sit and watch Draco for a while and then leave, having satisfied their bizarre connection, and maybe even be able to catch another hour's sleep before students began to awake.

This, of course, would have been perfect, in theory, if he hadn't snapped back to reality just at the wrong moment. At a moment where Draco Malfoy stepped free from his robes, alabaster skin all-but glowing in the early sunlight.

Harry swallowed hard, not for the first nor last time, as he lost himself in the vision of water exploding from the showerhead and cascading over Draco's – _Malfoy's_ newly revealed flesh. Harry flushed, holding his breath insistently until it hurt. Draco couldn't hear him! He had to get out of here – but he could not tear himself away…

As the water trickled down Draco's body, trailing down over his delicious curves and slender waist, he felt his muscles finally relax for the first time since yesterday. He grabbed the floating soap and massaged it into his hands. Slowly, he pressed the soap into his skin, running his hands down his hips and around his well toned legs, over his... The soap eased the tension from his tender muscles, foaming over his pale skin in until the water rushed over the suds, washing away the filth he felt like he had carried for so long.

After lathering the shampoo into his drenched hair, he sighed heavily as the water continued to beat the ache, the worries from his body and envelop him in a hazy steam of mist. The windows and mirrors of the boys' bathroom were completely covered in a steamy fog of condensation as he finished up.

Harry could not stave off the gasp that wrenched from his confined throat, though luckily, Draco was too lost in the steam to hear him. The heat from the shower only added to the burning flush that corrupted his body. His hips squirmed, suddenly cramped inside his pyjama bottoms and then, he could not help himself, his hand snuck down, taking advantage of his invisibility by rubbing himself through his bottoms.

His head flew back, teeth gnawing his lip in an attempt at silence. _This is so wrong,_ he thought.

Draco twisted the handle on the shower to stop the water as he stepped out into the cool room and spelled himself dry. He forced his arms through the sleeves of his school shirt. But as he pushed his legs into the tight elastic boxers that covered his genitals, his movements stopped abruptly. He thought for a moment he heard shuffling footsteps, he glanced behind his shoulder briefly, both left and right seeing nothing and continued. He pulled up his trousers, then fastened the green and white slytherin tie before smearing his hand against the mirror and wiping away the condensation so he could see his reflection. He glared for a few moments at _that_ reflection, the pale, ghostly creature who Lord Voldemort was relying on. He forced that fleeting thought away, looking down at himself as he neatened up.

There was that noise again – _footsteps. _

His eyes snapped round to the empty bathroom, was he going mad? He finally grabbed his robe and pulled it on, cautious as the feeling of being watched continued, prickling up his spine. "Who's there?!" He shuddered. Raising his hand slowly, suspiciously, he waved it back and forth through the air before him.

Harry gasped, but simply because he had remained rigid in his place a good few feet away did not spare him from Draco's hearing, the blond's eyes widened and he stalked forwards – surging straight towards him. Harry reluctantly tugged his hand from his pants where it had snuck, and side-stepped Draco at just the right moment, so that the boy missed him. He watched as Draco stopped where he, Harry had been moments before, his head tilting, signalling his listening carefully.

Harry paused there a moment, awaiting the calming of his breath before circling Draco silently. Damp golden locks hung _far_ too deliciously into those eyes that continued to scan the bathroom with suspicion. The bond was singing like a siren in his head, so overwhelming was the beauty of this call now, that Harry was beginning to find he _wanted_ to give into the song and damn the consequences. He wanted this, wanted to answer the siren's call and he could crash into the rocks and drown in the sea, right now, he could care less.

Hesitantly he reached out, (though still under the cloak) his fingertips brushing those rebellious, flaxen locks from those eyes gently. Draco started at the touch at first, he noted, and Harry held his breath, before leaning forward a little and allowing the warmth of his hand through the cloak to brush down across the blond's cheek. This time Draco's lashes fluttered, and Harry felt the bond simmer back down to a low heat, as if momentarily satisfied. A small smile tugged at Harry's face, Draco could be beautiful when he was like this and a pleasing heat built in his stomach as the Slytherin leant into the touch a little.

Then, suddenly, the blond's arm shot out, diving right for where Harry's arm was. Harry stifled a gasp, before leaping back out of Draco's reach – just in time. Draco faltered, missing him by inches. _Get out of here_, Harry's mind warned him, despite the bond's demand for him to remain.

_Let him see you, let him touch you…_

_He doesn't __**want**__ to touch me, _Harry's rational mind argued. But whatever part of him he was arguing with did not seem to hear him (or even speak the same language).

_You want him–_

_I __**don't**__!_ Harry screamed mentally, his common sense seizing him roughly and shaking him back into coherency as Draco shot towards him again. _Get out of here_! Draco would kill him if he found out he'd been spying on him – in the _shower_ no less! He flushed at the memory.

Draco reached out again, but nothing, maybe it was just all in his imagination. After all, he had even been possessed by that vision last night, so it wouldn't really be a surprise if this was another result of everything going on in his head.

He sighed as he felt calm once again, ignorant to Harry's presence. He finally dried his hair out with the towel and tossed it carelessly to the floor, leaving it for Filch to tidy. Grabbing his toiletries, he paced outwards from the boys' bathroom, _just_ missing contact with Harry, who was still hidden under that invisibility cloak.

Draco briefly felt the twinge of a presence as he walked out, though chose to move forward and ignore it. The footsteps, that odd moaning sound that had somehow played into his head and made him paranoid while taking that shower – he was sure they were real. Even though he was feeling slightly more relaxed, he couldn't rid himself of the mild tension that remained from being on edge for so long…

He cast his gaze back over the bathroom one last time as he stood on the threshold to the corridor.

_Get a hold of you're self, Draco,_ he thought as he headed out into the halls, which were slowly filling with students as the time for breakfast drew closer and closer.

Hermione woke, flying bolt upright in a bed that was not her own. Thank Merlin for privacy spells. She settled as she came to her senses, her red-haired boyfriend lying beside her snoring. A soft, doting sigh tumbled from her lips. They had tried to go all the way this time but Ron seemed to have lost his nerve half-way through. _There's always next time,_ she thought with a small smile, patting down her hair as her gaze wandered to the bed beside theirs, Harry's – which was empty!

She leant over Ron and shook him roughly. "Wake up, Ron!" He merely rolled over with a grunt, mornings never were his strong point.

"Hmmmmnn?" He groaned as Hermione shook him a second time.

"Ronald, wake up!" She instructed tersely, watching him ignore her to cuddle into his pillow. The girl sighed in frustration, before drawing in a sharp breath, grateful for the silencing charm around their bed. "RON!" she shouted, finally making him jump up in shock.

"What?" he mumbled, clutching his quilt.

"Harry is missing!" She hissed as Ron came around slowly from grogginess.

"He probably just went for a wander," Ron mumbled casually, not really awake enough to realize just how worried Hermione was.

"He is hiding something from us," she insisted quietly, "I just–" Both of their attention flew to the doorway as Harry returned to the room.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, tucking his invisibility cloak carefully out of sight before Hermione could notice and attempting to banish the guilt from his face. It had been wrong to give in like that (to desires he had not even realised he possessed) to watch Draco at his most vulnerable. Even if the blond hadn't known he was there, it didn't appease his conscience in anyway. Before Hermione could open her mouth to reprimand him, he beat her to it…

"More nightmares," he grumbled (surprised at how convincing his partial lie sounded). "I couldn't get to sleep again after they woke me up so I went for a walk to err…clear my head."

Hermione sighed exhaustedly. "Well next time, Harry, leave a note, or _something_," she said, relieved and content in his response until she caught sight of the invisibility cloak poking out of his pocket

Ron laughed; it wasn't like he had taken off on a spontaneous vacation! "Hermione, don't you think you're overreacting? Ron added, as she ignored him and enquired about the cloak.

"Why have you got that, Harry?" she asked, pointing to the cloak.

Harry's chest constricted considerably at those words. He pulled the cloak out, staring at it for a moment before sighing exasperatedly and throwing it into his trunk, kicking it shut furiously. "You don't deserve an answer for everything," he spat, ripping his nightshirt from his body (regardless of Hermione's presence) and beginning to dress in his uniform. "I _said_ I would do this alone – all of it. It was you two that involved yourselves in the curse of my life, if you are going to demand answers for everything I do then maybe you should rethink your offer to help me."

_What are you _doing?! His mind screamed. _What are you saying?! These are your friends, your family – your everything!_ Harry winced at that. They were all he had, but that was just it, he needed more, he needed something he could _never_ have.

_They have each other and I have no one,_ he thought, hating the way that resentment sounded, he wanted them to be happy but that was simply it. He didn't want to burden them with his troubles, didn't want to drag them into Horcrux hunts (even if he truly, could not do it without them). He wanted to know they would be safe, no matter what, and that he would not lose them, would not _kill_ them just by existing…

Hermione sighed as Harry shouted, his anger slightly contagious. "Harry, I'm just worried about you and…" She paused, considering how she was to word her thoughts. "We do want to help you, but you are going to have to help us by giving us some details. If we don't know what's going on with you, how can we help you?" She finished with a definite, unarguable tone, her eyes not parting from Harry's distant gaze.

Ron nodded, generally tending to stay out of Hermione's pent up frustration with how ridiculous Harry was being, and Harry's raging outbursts which weren't that much better. He really didn't like seeing his two best friends argue.

"Maybe he's right, Hermione." She glared at Ron sternly, but he still continued. "It's just…if Harry felt it was important enough that we needed to know, I'm sure he would tell us," He added, as he too finally began to dress himself after finally climbing out of bed.

Hermione looked back over at Harry, her voice heightened, more high pitched than before. "Harry, we _love_ you, I thought after all these years you would have known that," She gently reminded, feeling a little less furious and more concerned with each passing moment.

Harry bowed his head, guilt rising and leaving a bitter taste like bile in his throat. He sighed heavily, blinking back the tears pricking the backs of his eyes. Since when had he become such an emotional wreck? "You're right," he breathed, "Of course you're right and if there is any one I owe the truth to its you two. But…I can't give you an explanation right now and I don't…I don't _want_ to…" With that he pulled on his trousers, and toed on a pair of shoes and socks before seizing his bag. "Come on let's just – just get double potions over with."

Hermione considered him a moment, before nodding slowly. If there was anything you could count on Hermione for more than quick-wit and sheer intelligence it was her unfathomable belief that school was the most important thing in _existence_!

Down in the cool, recesses of the dungeons, Harry winced as his tongue flicked across his lip, which was sore from his incessant chewing. The bitter-sweet tang of blood filled his mouth and he ducked his head, concentrating on something apparently interesting on the floor to keep his self-inflicted injury hidden, at least long enough for the bleeding to stop. He peered up cautiously from his place in the line to head into potions. As ever, one line formed on one side of the door, the other (short line) was formed by the few slytherins taking NEWT potions. And Draco was at the head of that line.

His skin was buzzing so intensely he swore he could _hear_ it. His fingers were agitated, fiddling with the sleeves of his robes and running through his obsidian tresses (unconsciously imitating what the late James Potter had done whenever Lily Evans made an appearance). He coughed under his breath as he realised what he was doing, praying that his friends (and more importantly Malfoy) did not see him primping his hair! He mentally cringed.

Checking that Ron and Hermione were still locked in another of their spats, he flicked his eyes to the opposite side of the door, swearing that Malfoy's head snapped back to face the front suspiciously. Had Malfoy been looking at him? Harry raised a brow, probably not; the blond hadn't spared him a look the whole time they'd been standing there, waiting for Professor Slughorn to make his overdue appearance.

He understood now that far from sating his urges, watching Malfoy earlier in the shower had only frustrated him further – and worse alerted him to the existence of feelings he'd much prefer to vanish. His feelings were far from platonic, had been since _before_ this bond, he now realised. Hate was so strong and resolute that it lingered perilously close to a boundary line. A boundary that once crossed, could never be passed over again.

"So sorry for the delay everyone!" Slughorn's gratingly cheerful voice shook him from his musings, just in time for him to realise he was staring at Malfoy and look away before anyone caught him. It seemed he was constantly finding himself gazing in the blond's direction and that only increased the hurt that still lingered from Malfoy's words. _"You are pathetic, Potter…"_

"Good day there, Harry," Slughorn beamed at him, his friendliness still not dissipated (in fact it had simply _increased_) even with the pressure of a war he (Harry) was a large part of. Harry nodded with a small, forced smile. As Slughorn unlocked the door and shuffled inside, the line of students begin rising from their seats on the floor or swinging their bags over their shoulders. Harry sighed heavily, his eyes still lowered thoughtfully to the ground.

Evidently not paying enough attention to where he was going, Harry jumped in surprise when his body collided with another's. He winced in embarrassment at his clumsiness, but that was nothing compared to the horror, the sheer plummeting sensation in his stomach as he met those cool, grey eyes which inspected him with awkward evasion.

"Err, sorry," Harry grumbled, scratching the back of his neck, again scuffing up his hair unwittingly. His only answer was a grunt and Harry caught his torn lip in an effort to stifle the exhausted sigh that struggled to escape him. He stood back from the door a little, gesturing for Draco – _Malfoy_ damn it – to go through ahead of him. It was only when Draco's eyes flared with horror that Harry realised the significance of his uncharacteristic chivalry (when it came to Malfoy in any case).

All eyes were glued to them in confusion. Harry felt panic surge in his veins and instinctually moved to head through the door, except Malfoy seemed to have the same idea, and they bumped into each other awkwardly and stood back. This time Malfoy looked a little flustered and offered for him to go through first.

Harry, rigid with fury at his own stupidity (and _knowing_ Hermione was calculating this from her place in line behind him) did not move. He was paralysed with the charge that coursed through him as a result of their slight physical contact after being starved of it.

_Yes, Harry,_ his mind supplied, _He's right, you are pathetic…_

Draco glared. He felt a surge of electricity burn over his shoulders and dance up his neck. All the little hairs stood on end, his eyes staring sharply and coldly into Harry's as he too stood frozen to the floor. Their classmates were bunching behind them, staring and confused. Draco shrugged off the feelings creeping through his skin.

"Watch where you're going, _Potter_!" He snarled as he lifted up his elbow and shoved Harry sideways, causing him to lose balance and almost tumble to the floor; thankfully a table caught his fall. Everyone stared, in shock at the bold movement as Draco rushed past and took his seat, unable to escape that awkward feeling that had seized the atmosphere in the classroom and turned it dry. The other slytherins followed, throwing Harry disgusted looks as they moved to their desks.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Ron asked, lending him a hand so he was able to stand again. Even though Harry said he was fine, the look on his face told a different story, Hermione was no fool.

Draco's elbow felt immensely numb still from where he had shoved Potter sideways less than a minute ago. The contact had made his joints feel stiff. He tried to shake off the feeling as he relieved a small itch on his arm where the Dark Mark would have been, if not concealed by magic.

Gazing carefully round the class, Draco waited for the rest of the students to enter. Nothing ever changed; it was overrun with Gryffindors again, including Harry, who he purposely avoided for the next two hours.

Draco's mind was not in the least bit focused on this class. He wasn't even really _attempting_ to listen to Slughorn's constant nattering, he opened his textbook, but the words were a blur. He practically sat staring at an empty potion bottle that was situated on the edge of his desk throughout the entire lesson while his classmates worked.

He sensed Harry was watching him from behind, it was as though he could feel those eyes on him, but he ignored it – or tried to – knowing it would only cause more conflict and he had enough of _that_ lately. He could have been wrong, (maybe it was just in his imagination anyway) he wasn't going to make a prat of himself by saying something if Harry _hadn't_ in fact been staring at him…

Dusk was settling outside the castle as Harry, Hermione and Ron reached Gryffindor Tower later on, by which time Hermione had worked herself up once more. She sucked in a deep breath, before seizing her moment, catching Harry off-guard.

"It's to do with Malfoy, isn't it?" She asked, watching a blank expression rise on Ron's face as well as Harry's, but they weren't the same kind of 'blank' expression. Harry's was more faint-hearted and indisposed, giving him a complexion like death, while Ron was flustered with a rosy red confusion and a slightly raised brow.

Hermione half-heartedly pressed on, knowing she could possibly cause more harm, but she couldn't help herself. She had to know. She had to be sure that it really wasn't what she was thinking. "Well? Is it Malfoy?" She waited. Ron's bewildered look fell upon Harry, who stood awkwardly, unable to face them.

Harry bowed his head, dropping his book bag onto their usual table at the edge of the common room. His eyes were brimming with hurt, hurt at Draco's blatant disregard and humiliation at what had happened outside Slughorn's classroom. "It's Malfoy," he admitted, so quiet that his friends had to strain to hear. "But it's… It's complicated and I just–"

"Come on, Mate," Ron interrupted, impatient now that they had their best friend finally talking. His irritation bristled at the confirmation that Malfoy had somehow upset his friend, (though he had no idea at how the intimate manner in which he'd done so). "You can tell us anything."

Sighing heavily, Harry fixed his gaze on the table, so that he did not have to look at the people he treasured most while he admitted his…_stupidity_! "I hope I can… It's just that – well it's not something you're likely to expect or…or even _understand_. I barely understand it myself…" He allowed his voice to trail off into the nothingness he so _desperately _wished he could fade into himself, but when he eventually raised his eyes (still treacherously shining with emotion) his friends were still watching him tolerantly. He really did not deserve them…

"We're not going anywhere, mate," Ron assured him with a quick look to Hermione. Yet again, Harry could only nod slowly, a sickening feeling brewing in his gut as the look of disgust in Draco's expression played out in his head again and again until he wished he could tear out his eyes.

"I don't think I ever really told you that…when I accidentally used that spell of the Half-blood Prince's against Malfoy in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom…" He winced, the guilt, the shame filling him, even now. "If Snape hadn't arrived to counter it, Draco would've died – he was dying on the floor in front of me because of _my _recklessness!"

Ron looked confused and stunned, and Hermione's mouth was open on the verge of speech – Harry cut across her. "But because of that…somehow, because I nearly killed him, we have this…_connection_." He flushed a little at how intimate that sounded, and how much he had come to _like_ the idea of being connected to him, despite the affects.

"Like my connection to Voldemort but _not_… I feel his emotions, when he's hurt, I _feel _when he's nearby and when he is far away it feels…_wrong_. It's like a call – I just gravitate toward him!" His voice was becoming more desperate for them to understand when they only looked confused, and he was ever grateful that they were alone in the common room. "When I brush against him in the corridor – when he shoved me down in Potions – it was like an electric charge!"

Only then did he realise how impassioned his words had become, when he saw Hermione shift uncomfortably and Ron blush darker than his hair. Harry swallowed awkwardly, practically _seeing_ Hermione's apt mind working it all out. There would be no denying it now. She _knew_ – she _knew_ how he felt! He could see it in her eyes. "But…but Draco wasn't protected by love, for some reason he has one scar from the spell that just wouldn't heal and it…it connects us. I'm not sure why and when I went to Draco for answers he denied feeling anything…"

Harry considered his friends carefully then, waiting for their response – a response of any kind. He realised (belatedly) that his voice had hit its lowest in misery in admitting Draco's denial and finally (perhaps in aid of saving Ron's complexion if nothing else) Hermione rose to her feet.

"Harry," Hermione started, standing tall as she began, "Whatever Malfoy did or didn't do, he probably deserved it. He's vile, _vulgar_, I mean…he's a _slytherin _for goodness sake – a Death Eater! Even with this…this _pull_ you talk about, that's no reason to feel guilty, or for you to think that you now have some gravity defying bond with him. It's probably just the after-effects from the spell, simply taking time to heal," she suggested, though did not seem Harry agree.

"Or maybe it's in his head," Ron spat, a disgusted look having stretched across his features as both Hermione and Harry looked at him in sync, surprised at such a forward allegation from someone who tended to avoid conflict most of the time.

Ron felt a rim of jealously run over him slightly. The thought of Harry associating himself with a slytherin without telling him or Hermione about it straight away left a churning in his stomach that felt like it was being twisted inside out. It was uncomfortable, and he didn't like it!

"And since when have you referred to Malfoy by his first name, Harry?" Ron cringed. He wasn't stupid, and he hoped to _Merlin_ that this pull was all it appeared to be, and nothing deeper, but by the look in Harry's eyes, it was obvious it was a lot more then just a daydream Harry had built up inside his troubled head.

Hermione slapped Ron hard, the palm of her hand stained red at the full force of it colliding against his cheek. He instantly lifted his hand to cover where she had just hit him, as if in shock. "Ron!" She practically hissed. "You're suggesting that he's _mad _after all the rumours he's had to deal with?!" Ron and Hermione both glared at each other, equally annoyed with the other.

"Oh, so it's okay for you to tell Harry that Malfoy deserved the attack, _just_ because he's a slytherin, but when it comes to me telling Harry he's obviously gone barmy, _I'm _the one who ends up getting slapped? If you wanted to hit someone, go hit Harry for hiding this from us!" Ron finished, still clutching his throbbing cheek in his hand.

"You're the one who's getting jealous because Harry has a bond with Malfoy that's deeper than anything you can offer him as his best friend. I suppose I'm upset he didn't tell us but Harry is the one who's facing this bond, not us. Harry is the one who has been dealing with this alone, unable to tell us, because he knew this is how you'd react!"

"It's no wonder he didn't tell us, I mean you're–" Ron's words cut short, and both he and Hermione looked over at Harry who had started laughing.

The pressure of this inevitable moment, when the two people he cared about most would discover his secret, it had built inside him, every moment, crushing his organs with the strain. And then…_this_?

"I'm sorry," he gasped through the laughter that shook his ribs so hard that they hurt, "It's just – you two were just – such an anti-climax!"

Hermione looked affronted, whereas Ron just blushed beet-red.

Harry sighed through his dying laughter, shaking his head slightly. If he was honest, their reactions could have been much worse, they seemed to just think he was going soft-in-the-head; relief eased the ache Draco had inflicted in his chest. "I'm sorry," he breathed, calming somewhat, "I really just…I can't explain it to you any better than that."

Ron raised a brow, his complexion settling once more. "You sound barmy, mate."

Hermione shot him a glare, but before the previous argument could resurface and continue forevermore Harry cut in before her.

"What happened to Draco… He deserved a lot of things, but he didn't deserve to die, and who am I to take up the responsibility of punishing him for being an arse?" He watched a smile of pride twitch at the corners of Hermione's mouth, whereas Ron seemed stunned by his words (and still quite a bit irritated evidently).

"I don't think this is some side-affect of the spell," he continued, answering Hermione's earlier suggestion. "It…it feels more than that. And this isn't just because of _guilt_ – I'm not pulled to him because I'm _guilty_." A frown creased his features, the feather-light freedom of his laughter moments before dissipating as Malfoy's frustration crashed through his relief, plummeting like iron in his gut.

"It's something about that spell, it's like a magnetic pull to him and if I resist I feel…_bad_, like I…I need…_him_." He winced at how girly and ridiculous that sounded, _certain_ that Ron was struggling not to laugh behind that look of disgust. "I know I'm not making any sense," he assured them, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. It felt like his skin was burning with a furious itch only Draco's presence could satisfy. "But it's not just the bond either. I _can_ resist it, despite the burning and the tingling and…_everything_. I can walk away from him when he's standing right in front of me without saying a word. But lately I'm…I'm not sure I _want_ to…"

Hermione's stomach felt like it had dropped as she recognized that what Harry was describing was similar to her feelings with Ron. But surely it couldn't be that. _Surely. _

But it was.

Ron's hand had now lowered from his face where Hermione had hit him, and he was once again a little flabbergasted by the things spewing out of Harry's mouth. It was as if he had been hit with a highly inappropriate verbal incontinence spell! "Harry, mate, you sound a little pathetic."

Hermione glared at Ron once again, wondering to herself what exactly it was she saw in him. "Oh, that's right Ronald, make him feel worse."

"What?" Ron asked as he walked over to the blazing fire to chuck in some more firewood (effectively distancing himself from the conversation which had become _far_ too uncomfortable). Hermione continued.

"Harry, when you say you…you _need him_, in which way do you need him?" Hermione patiently awaited an answer. The expressions crossing Harry's face, they possessed a passion, a sadness she had never seen there before, a kind of shy, awkwardness.

"I need him to be with me," Harry whispered, as if he didn't really want her to hear him. That was it, he had forced it out, admitted it at last as he had not even done to himself. "I want to be the reason for…" He shook his head in dismissal, not _believing _how honest his words suddenly wanted to be – the instinct for truth was just too overwhelming to lie. "I want to be on his mind as much as he is on mine," he admitted, ignoring Ron's fake vomit noises from the fire (which silenced immediately at Hermione's death glare).

"I…I want him to smile just because I did!" Harry blurted out, every admission easing the ache of his long suffering in silence, the relief overwhelming, though it did nothing to help the burn of Draco's connection. "I want him to lie awake at night – I want him to know everything about me – I need him to _want_ to touch me instead of freezing then swatting me away like a _bug_!"

His breath was slightly laboured as he caught himself before the final admission had escaped him. _I need him to love me_. He would _not_ voice that aloud, not to anyone, nothing would be so humiliating… To admit his love struck, doe-eyed naivety, his foolishness especially after such blatant rejection. He shook his head, ashamed of his detailed answer, despite the relief at finally sharing it with someone. But Hermione was watching him with those warm eyes, and he felt suddenly as disgusted with himself as Ron must be.

The realisation of his feelings, they had struck like lightning through his body until it shook with the intensity. His hatred had changed with the flash of his spell that day in the bathroom, so swiftly and suddenly he had not had chance to get used to the idea. And right now, contemplating it, though it made sense, he wished with all his heart that it didn't. _"You are pathetic, Potter." _He cringed. He could not push that from his mind, the dark, mirror-filled room where he had felt Draco's heartbeat under his fingers…

_I'm so fucked up…_

And then, a warm hand settled on his shoulder, irritating his already prickly skin (that hummed in demand for Draco's presence) but he remained still under it, opening his eyes to see Hermione gazing at him in concern.

Hermione drew him into a hug, holding onto him in worry for a few moments, before leaning away again, both of her hands still resting upon his shoulders. "Harry…" She paused, a little dumbstruck as to how to word the sentences that were to follow.

Ron's throat had tightened, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. After all this time of knowing his best friend, knowing _Harry Potter_, he just realized he didn't really know him at all anymore, and the made him feel uneasy.

"Harry, I didn't know you were queer?" Ron spat spitefully, his eyes unable to stay focused on Harry without feeling slightly disgusted, watching him flush as Hermione began, her hands no longer on Harry's shoulders.

"Harry, are you out of you're mind? For one it's Malfoy, _Draco _Malfoy, Not to mention he's a…" She trailed off upon seeing the shamed look cross her friend's features, and it hurt. "Look, Harry I just…" Hermione was struggling to speak. She wanted to say something to comfort him, but everything rolling of her tongue was sounding more and more like she was having a dig at him.

"He's a Death Eater, a…well…" She sighed in frustration, the words she wanted to say seemed to have stuck somewhere in her throat, refusing to come out. "Harry, are you sure it's not just this _bond_ that's making you think these things? I mean, would you even be thinking them without it?" She watched as Harry's eyes widened. He wasn't sure how to answer her.

"I don't know, alright, Hermione?!" He yelled, the pressure of the pull overwhelming him. Even now, when he wasn't near Draco at all, there was an underlying buzz that ate away at him, and watching his two best friends look at him in ways he never thought they would, it seemed to be fuelling the magnetic connection. It was if somehow disapproval from the people he loved made it that more powerful, that much more vital.

It was more of a shock to them than anything else, finding out that their best friend was having thoughts of Malfoy in _that_ way – well, it was enough to disturb anyone, including himself, but their attitudes weren't making it any easier on him. "I'm…I'm going to go get some air," Harry gasped out, his forehead a dotted up a sweat. The bond, it was calling him, he couldn't control it, he _had _to see Malfoy again.

He threw open the portrait hole, allowing it to fall shut behind him on Ron and Hermione, who were still overwhelmed by Harry's confession. Yes, they had wanted to know what was going on with him, but neither of them had anticipated what had come.

Harry rushed down the castle stairs, hopelessly, foolishly, he wasn't even sure what he was doing, each portrait insulting him as his pace quickened. He had gone from such extremes in record time back in the common room. Anxious, relieved, terrified, guilty and now…

_Your own friends are disgusted by you, _a voice in his head reprimanded, only it was not his own voice – _You are pathetic, Potter _– it was Draco's. Harry winced, overwhelmed by _everything_ as he descended the moving stairs two at a time. He needed to get away, to distance himself from the confused disgust imprinted on his friends' faces.

He was so conflicted, on one hand, a part of him knew that this was wrong, Draco was a Death Eater, was a slytherin and whilst that wouldn't have mattered, he wasn't a particularly nice person either. But then a larger, more dominant part of him, the part that prickled with every mention of the blond's name, could not seem to care what Draco was. _How can I love him? He_ hates_ me. Even if he doesn't want to be a Death Eater, the fact that he loathes me, that he feels nothing will never change…_

Suddenly, a vast shudder shook his body, and he seized hold of the banister to steady himself as the feeling dissipated into tiny shocks of static. Draco was nearby; he could feel it in every pore of his being. He closed his eyes against the spinning world, the staircase moving beneath his feet as he pondered Hermione's question. _Would_ he be thinking these things were it not for the bond? He shook his head, probably not, but that didn't mean he was only _feeling_ these things because of them now. They had started because of the link between them, of that he was sure, but now…

_Now it's something more,_ he realised, his fingers clenching on the banister until his knuckles whitened. If Draco could deny the bond, could push him away then couldn't it be that…if Harry didn't possess the strength to pull away and Draco did then it was because his feelings intensified them. _It is more than that,_ he corrected himself, _I don't _want _to pull away, I don't even try! _

His skin prickled uncomfortably then, as if in agreement, and Harry shot down the stairs. They were moving again, and he leapt across the small gap appearing between them and the landing, too impatient to wait for them to move back again. _And besides,_ he added, _I can feel him getting further away._ He took the last set of stairs with practised ease and bolted down the corridor, rounding the corner out into the Transfiguration courtyard. He came then to a sudden stop as he slammed full-force into a hard, unyielding body.

Harry gasped, catching himself on the stone archway, clutching at his frantically breathless chest as it (and the heart beating furiously within) failed to calm. His body sung with panic and bliss all at once, and Harry raised his eyes hesitantly, _knowing _who was standing (rather disgruntled) in front of him before he'd even seen those grey eyes shining in the darkness of the courtyard.

"M-Malfoy?" He breathed, flushing at the ridiculous way his voice sounded just then, and not failing to notice the way the blond's nose wrinkled with distaste, even in a face overcome by shock (probably at seeing him there so suddenly after-hours.) He met that intense gaze faultlessly this time, unable to look away even if he wished to. He had needed to see him all day…

"What do you think you're doing, Potter?" Draco hissed, rubbing his sleeves off as if touching Potter had dirtied him. Draco looked around, thank _Merlin _no one had seen his collision with Potter, he felt embarrassed enough. He neatened his white blond hair, brushing it aside slightly with his fingers.

A bounding surge of electric bolted up his spine and he shivered. This feeling was getting worse, every time he happened to make contact with Potter, something under his skin spiralled and left him with this sickening uneasiness that would only be left to lay on his stomach for the rest of that night.

"Well? Aren't you going to say something, _Potter_, or are you just going to stand there?" Draco tried to tear his eyes away from Harry, but he couldn't. His face was frozen and his nose was crinkled with distaste. This static between them was becoming more unbearable every time it struck! It wasn't just a weird feeling, it was often painful, like someone had taken a potato peeler and ripped layers from his skin, leaving him raw and aching.

"Well?" He repeated, impatient to get away.

Harry shook his head, clearing his hazy mind of all the wild imaginings that voice conjured, especially if (by some miracle) they were not always full of such loathing disgust. "Sorry," he apologised, his hand scratching the back of his neck before unthinkingly rising up to ruffle his hair. He saw Draco stiffen out of the corner of his eye and quickly lowered his hand _knowing_ the blond had seen his unconscious primping.

Draco stared sharply at Harry, at his apology, unable to think. His mind suddenly became hazy as his vision blurred in and out of focus on Harry's lighting shaped scar. His Dark Mark was burning; Lord Voldemort was trying to penetrate his thoughts again. He could feel it, that silent aching that throbbed under the hidden mark.

Resisting him was hard, but manageable, unlike this connection to Harry which seemed unbearable. It was like a force he had never experienced. It was nothing like that of the Dark Lord, it was far more powerful then anything _He Who Could Not Be Named_ had thrown at him, and each time they met he was finding it harder and harder to resist it, harder and harder to say no to him.

Draco's eyes were trained on him intently, shining with something indecipherable, something completely opposite to the abhorrence in that face.

Deep in Harry's gut, the pressure that had built inside him plummeted, making him feel quite sick. "You…you really _do _hate me, don't you?" He murmured, more to himself than to Malfoy. His hands clenched into fists as Draco's mouth twisted into a sneer, and Harry's whole body shook with bitterness. Why couldn't, for once, something go right? Why couldn't this boy bend to the wind, at least a little?

Every breath brought their chests just a little closer, the heat of those exhalations warming his cheeks slightly in the bitter cold of the courtyard's archways. That wretched humming he could not sate sung so loud he _swore _Draco must have heard it, and braving that gaze again, he _himself_ swore he saw it. Draco looked uncomfortable, irritated even but there was no denying the minor fidgeting and sparse beads of sweat littering that alabaster flesh even in this chill.

Harry caught his lip between his teeth as his jaw set in determination. He'd never seized what he wanted – ever, had never wanted anything badly enough, and now he did… There was just no way he was going to let Draco deny he felt _anything_. Even if he didn't possess the feelings Harry did, he knew he felt their connection.

The crescent moon peeked from beyond the clouds outside, and caught each strand of golden hair, causing Harry's breath to catch in his throat. He had been wrong earlier; the itch was _not_ satisfied by Draco's presence. It only intensified until Harry thought he'd go mad with it! It needed touch. It needed more!

Suddenly, his body lurched forwards of its own accord, his heart pounding furiously. Blood throbbed in his ears, so loud, second only to the gasping breath that drew through Draco's lips, just as Harry pressed his own to them. It was clumsy, adolescent but it made his body soar and flip as if he had wings.

The mouth against his was soft and frozen with surprise. He smiled against him, his tongue flicking out to trace their defined shape, as his hands reached up hesitantly to trace the flaxen locks at the back of the Draco's neck. He felt that body shudder against his and drew his lips away with a very Malfoy-_ish_ smirk playing at his lips, his hand still resting _far_ too intimately at the back of that neck.

Draco's mind blanked as Harry darted forwards at him, and his heart jerked when he felt those tender lips brushing with a warmth upon them that he never knew existed. For a brief moment he wanted to close his eyes and lean into that kiss. wanted to shove his tongue deep into that throat and make Harry his…

What was he thinking?

He tried to gravitate away from the pull, it was making him think and feel things he knew he shouldn't. But then, those fingers caressed his hair and Draco swung his head sideways at the touch, allowing each of Harry's digits (if only for a moment) to send escalating shudders down his spine. His entire body exploded with feelings he'd never dreamt of, shook in ways he never knew it could, leaving him with a few delayed vibrating chills that ran profusely up and down his quivering torso. He forced himself away from the magnet like feeling he had now devoured his entire self. He had to resist, even if he didn't want to…

Did he just think that?

"Tell me you felt nothing," Harry demanded, his voice heavy with lust as he regarded the suddenly dark eyes watching him carefully. Seeing the protest brewing on those kiss-bruised lips, he caressed the back of the blond's hair a second time, ripping a shudder from that body in answer. His smile broadened. "Deny it if you dare."

The words stabbed their way into Draco's mind like a rain of needles as he forced that feeling away once again. He would not allow it to touch him anymore!

SMACK!

Draco resisted any allegation and threw Harry backwards with his fist, the fall echoing throughout the courtyard as his slytherin ring crunched into Harry's lip. Draco glared as the boy tumbled backwards and hit the floor.

"I feel _nothing_!" Draco lied, walking ahead of Harry and kicking him in the ribs as he strode past. His silver, moonlit eyes narrowed with a cold shimmer as he caught Harry's dim eye gaze briefly once more before departing. "You're sick, Potter," he spat, leaving Harry still on the cold floor.

Harry held his ribs in pain as he twisted to watch Draco move further and further away from him, before the pale figure faded into the distance.

Draco pulled up his sleeves; he had built up a heavy sweat again. How much more resistance would he have to take? With every moment he drew closer to Harry, he felt Lord Voldemort becoming stronger, as if he somehow knew what he had asked of Draco was being fulfilled. But he couldn't, Draco could not allow him to win.

The more he and Harry collided like this, the closer the Dark Lord would be to killing him. Draco quickly forced that momentary thought out. It wouldn't come to that, he wouldn't _let _it – Did he just think that too? What was happening to him? He could not help but think he was somehow losing part of himself in the chaos of this game.

Draco's gut plummeted. No matter how much pain he had to endure when resisting that pull, it didn't even come close to the pain he felt at leaving Harry so helpless back in the archway of the courtyard to pick up the pieces he, _Draco _had scattered. Though he played ignorance, Draco could clearly see, this was swiftly falling apart around them. He was at a loss. Each path carried a no-win destination…

Harry stared vacantly ahead. He had been standing outside the portrait of the Fat Lady for what seemed like an age, unmoving, not possessing the willpower to take another step forward. Filch would be making his rounds for students out of bed soon, but he could not seem to care. He brought his fingers up to touch the place where his mouth had been linked to Malfoy's, wincing as they caught his split lip carelessly. A sad, sour smirk twisted his mouth. So like Malfoy to give a kiss so bittersweet…

Suddenly, the portrait swung open and Harry stumbled back, narrowly missing a tumble down the stairs by catching himself on the banister.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice reached him and the void in his gut spread. He hadn't been prepared to face them after…earlier. His head was even more occupied of self-loathing confusion than before, and above all, he wasn't in the mood. "We were so worried when you didn't come back!"

"We checked the Marauder's Map, mate," Ron muttered with no small amount of guilt, but whether it was for his borrowing the Marauder's Map without asking or his earlier spiteful comment Harry wasn't sure. _"Harry, I didn't know you were queer." _Those words kept revolving around in his head alongside everything else, their spiteful tone increasing with every echo.

Finally, he looked up, finding them both framed in the portrait hole. Hermione offered Ron a wary look at Harry's lack of improvement in temperament. _Maybe they prefer anger to misery,_ he thought distantly.

"We…we saw you…on the map," she began tentatively, her eyes shining with concern, "With…with Malfoy." There was a moment then, where Harry stared at her, completely comprehending what wrong conclusion she had come to. _Whatever she is thinking of could never happen, _he thought miserably, before offering her a desolate shrug. When she and Ron shared another look (as if he couldn't see them) he pushed through them into the empty common room in an effort to escape the comments he knew were coming.

A heavy, exhausted sigh tore from his lips. Everything, he was so tired of _everything_. Hearing the portrait close behind his friends as they followed him into the room, he felt his last shred of resolve crumble and he dropped himself into the nearest comfy chair by the dying fire, resigned to the fate of facing his friends' rightful opinions of his…self-destructive _stupidity!_  
_That's what love is, self-destructive,_ he thought bitterly as he watched his friends take their places on the couch opposite him, verging on speech.

Hermione quietly followed Harry into the common room, knowing once again, that whatever had happened with Malfoy just now couldn't have been good. The look on Harry's expression was far too formidable to misplace. Ron trailed a little distance behind, still rather agitated about this mess.

"So, how did things go with Malfoy," Ron asked bitingly and Hermione's glare was on him again. Apparently he was upset still, but he really was acting petty and childish, it wasn't as though they were_ lovers_. He cringed at that thought, he was far too happy with Hermione – and _women_ in general. But they were close, best friends, and Ron felt that something as important as sexual preference was something he deserved to know. Didn't he have rights?! Didn't he? He wondered, his thoughts panning out, only serving to wind him up further. Were Cho-Chang and Ginny just cover-ups for this dirty secret? Had Harry had used his sister?

"What about Ginny?" Ron asked randomly, only to see Harry's face fill with confusion.

"RON! Stop acting like a brat," Hermione interfered, while Harry remained in silence, all-but ignorant to their words. Emerald eyes were drowned with an emotional glaze and heavily focused on the crackling, orange flames, as though part of himself wasn't really there with them, as if part of himself were still under the archway, lips to Draco's… He found himself touching his broken lip again. It stung, like the memory.

"I'm not acting like a _brat_," Ron muttered, trudging over to the empty single couch in the corner of the room and plummeting heavily into it. "I was just asking a question, Hermione," He finished as she swung a very angry look at him.

"Fine, I'm going to bed," Ron grumbled, knowing by Hermione's expression that if he were to stay it would only make things worse. And right now, he was just being selfish; he could see that despite not being able to get past the barriers of confusion and hatred for Malfoy…

Hermione sat beside Harry on the couch, besieged with concern as she spoke gently "Harry, what happened to you're lip?"

Harry shook his head shaking the image of his fuming red-headed friend from his mind. _Use Ginny_, he thought in confusion, _one mutual kiss couldn't be considered that, and after how I ended it at Dumbledore's funeral, there could be no doubt that I_… He trailed off with a frown.

"Things between me and Ginny never felt like this," he murmured, ignoring Hermione's question momentarily in favour of clarifying that. He raised his now focused eyes to her, blinking back the moisture.

"I ended things with Ginny at Dumbledore's funeral and…I…I've just…I've never felt anything that even compares to what I'm feeling now – for…_Draco_." He watched Hermione's nose wrinkle with badly hidden distaste. She clearly didn't approve but out of his two best friends, she was the most likely to understand, even if she didn't like it.

"And it was _Draco_ that happened to my lip, okay?" He replied, snapping as suddenly from his lucid daze as if Draco's fist had collided with him once more. He touched the broken skin of his wounded mouth again, relishing in the pain, because it reminded him of what had occurred just before it. "And you can disapprove of what's happening, Hermione, you and Ron can hate it but believe me there's _nothing_ you can say that will hurt any worse than what he's said."

Hermione sighed, bringing her hand up to rest over Harry's shoulder. "I don't hate it, Harry, I just don't understand it. For six years Malfoy has caused nothing but trouble. He is a vulgar little maleficent cockroach and suddenly you're swooning over him like a lost kitten?" She sighed, with a smile.

"Look Harry, if you're happy pursuing Malfoy, then I won't stop you, but…" She paused, reaching over to his lip and gently placing a light finger upon the crack, drawing back almost instantly at Harry's flinch. "Is that what you want?"

Startled by her acceptance in the name of his happiness (though he should have expected no less really) Harry blinked a few times at her question before daring to answer. "It's what I want," he confirmed gloomily, "But it doesn't matter because he won't have anything to do with me." He punctuated his final words by gesturing to his split lip. "And this is all I'll ever get for trying. We don't always get what we want, do we?" That said, he seized his bag from where he had dropped it by the table earlier and approached the stairs heading up to the dormitories.

"Thanks, Hermione, for understanding," he said turning back to her to force a slight smile. "Maybe you can convince Ron a bit more for me but…I'm just really tired, it's late, I…I really just want to sleep." With that, he hurried up the stairs, with absolutely no intention of sleeping and _every_ intention of lying there wide-awake and moping to himself under the safety of the blankets.

Hermione smiled as she watched Harry leave, knowing that whatever it was he was going through, surely could not end well. She could see destruction thriving all over him like its own aura, and it scared her.

It was past midnight and all the students were sound asleep. Silence filled the castle's halls and corridors, not even whispers were voiced. A light, distant sound of trees brushing together in the building wind, and the slight splatters of the lake splashing against the shore seemed to calmly divert Draco's thoughts, as he lay in his bed awake staring at the ceiling.

Beyond the stone barrier, the clouds beckoned, shady greys and blacks storming above. Draco could feel his arm burning again, a tingling heat of the Death Eaters' gathering commencing. He was being called.

He gasped as the prickling began to rise. Throwing himself out of bed, he reached for his trousers and threw on his school shirt and jumper, not bothering with the robe or tie. He quietly crept out of the Slytherin dungeon and out of the castle, thankful for the practice in avoiding Filch, who was guarding the corridors like a hawk.

He had completely forgotten to put his shoes on, and he felt the crisp, cold ground move between his toes outside of the castle. But he wasn't willing to go back now, he was being called. The gates of Hogwarts beckoned ahead, and as per Voldemort's agreement with Snape (who had remained a double-agent after his secret hand in Dumbledore's death) they shuddered open silently to allow him passage through.

An eerie whoosh of energy flew past him as he stepped out of the protection of the grounds (which were fixed to permit only himself and Snape through at times like these). However, no sooner had they snapped shut behind him, than a loud _CRACK_ made him jump sideways.

"Father?!" Draco said abruptly, his heart racing, startled as his father appeared before him. He came to a halt, seeing the older man staring down at him.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you, my boy,"' Lucius said, looking down at Draco's bare feet with disdain. "Honestly Draco, are you incapable of everything?" He snarled, whipping up a pair of shoes for his son with his wand. "Come on."

His father cast a quick, cautionary glance around the grounds, despite knowing that, with Dumbledore gone the chances of their presence being discovered here was minimal, but one could never be too careful. Locking his hand around his son's upper-arm, he dragged him down away from the gates of Hogwarts until they were out of sight of the castle and then he stopped, finally looking down upon his only son once more.

"He is not displeased but he is impatient, Draco," he warned him, concern edging into his voice. "Keep your mind closed to his probing searches, show him not a _glimpse _of whatever you have been wasting your time on. He will ask, you will lie and lie _well._" He paused then, reaching forward to flatten the golden locks of his son's usually pristine hair. "Our family depends on this, Draco. Do what you will behind closed doors but play your part well, at least until I can find away around this…"

Suddenly, his hand gripped his son's shoulder, and a sharp, vicious tug behind their navels tugged them both up into oblivion, releasing them in a place that they both knew all too well. Malfoy Manor would be housing the meeting tonight, evidently. Lucius felt his son stiffen under his grasp and he knew what he was thinking – they had opened their home to a lunatic who would kill them as soon as look at them if they failed him again…

"Ah, Draco, Lucius," the low, foreboding hiss called to them from the dark circle gathered in the main drawing room, a place that had once held nothing but happy memories for a young Draco. But not anymore. Voldemort's menacing, spindly fingers reached out, to _Draco_, calling to him with less force than the bond with Harry but there was still no room for refusal. That did not stop a shudder of revulsion from building at the base of his neck when those vile fingers touched his shoulder, and Lucius, who knew his son so well could _sense_ his struggle in hiding his repulsion.

Draco felt relieved in a sense to know his father was trying to help find a way out this mess just as much as he was. It didn't change the fact that he still felt alone in his task though. Draco felt strange being at home, with Lord Voldemort amongst them. And yet he couldn't help but smile reassuringly at his mother who was standing over in the doorway wringing her hands anxiously.

"Tell me, how have you been fairing on your mission, _Draco_?" His name was a serpentine slur on that foul tongue, polar-opposite to the way it _could_ sound, coming from someone else's lips…

_Empty your mind of such thoughts,_ a warning voice hissed in Draco's ear.

His attention snapped as the Dark Lord spoke, his low chilling voice sent shivers down Draco's spine as he asked the one thing Draco had not prepared an answer for.

He had to think and fast, think of an answer he could give, something he could remember; too big a lie would end up backfiring. _Think Draco, Think. _

"Potter, he likes me." And just like that, it rolled over his tongue. Lord Voldemort advanced in on him waving his hand as he spoke.

"_Likes_ you?" He cooed, considering him for a moment before floating back away, circling the room. "How so?"

Draco stuttered, he wasn't even sure what he meant, and remained there awkwardly silent. His father tapped his shoulder subtly, reminding him that he was behind him. For all the good his presence did.

"My Lord, I mean…that he and I have been meeting up more frequently."' Draco winced, hoping that would be enough to appease the spine-chilling creature. It wasn't a complete lie, so why did he feel like he had just sold Potter out?

Voldemort paused in his circling of his prey and reached out, his fingers pressing insistently on Draco's head without invitation. The digits threaded into blond locks and he felt the smaller body freeze beneath the evidently unwanted touch. A smirk laced his reptilian mouth. All of his followers felt the mark burn like fire at his touch, each handled the pain differently, but headstrong little boy Death Eaters always struggled to remain unfazed under his hands…

A flash of persistent green eyes darted across his vision when his hand touched Draco. The younger Malfoy's feelings were absent entirely, and yet oddly (for reasons unknown to him) the Potter boy's emotions rang as loud in his ears as a bell's chime. But then, a vision of his enemy leaning in against Draco's lips split his investigation and he was forced roughly back from the blond's mind, whether from the child himself or the pure sincerity of Potter's warmth (which he had always been susceptible to) he was not sure.

A delighted, chilling laugh, filled the room, and by the entrance to the foyer, Narcissa Malfoy shuddered, passing a look of concern to her wary husband. What had the Dark Lord seen in Draco's mind?

Snake-like nostrils flared in manic pleasure and Draco visibly eased as the Dark Lord stepped back from him.

"I never realised you gave yourself so wholly to the cause, Draco," Voldemort nearly _purred_, his followers wincing at the strange noise. "Feel free to take pleasure of your own on this mission but do not stray far from your duty." His twisted mind replayed the delicious hurt in emerald eyes as Draco's fist collided harshly with his face. There was nothing so intoxicating as such innocence betrayed. "I feel sure you will have him eating out of your hand in no time," he chuckled, his perplexed followers watching Draco for answers, except for his father, who regarded him with narrowed eyes…

Lord Voldemort caressed Draco's face with his silky, textured palm, so cold it felt like death itself was running over him. He tried his utmost not to react to it.

"I knew I could trust you, Draco," Voldemort sneered, readying his wand for departure. "It's a good boy you have there Lucius, sometimes, one wonders, if he would exceed you one day?"

Draco watched as the Dark Lord and his followers vanished as suddenly as they had flashed into his vision earlier. He felt a little faint, but nonetheless relieved that they had gone. His feet were unable to move from the spot in which he stood.

_"I never realised you gave yourself so wholly to the cause, Draco…" _

Draco shied away from that statement, forcing himself doubly-hard not to let his pale cheeks colour any darker than they probably were.

A disgruntled look passed over his Father's features, evidently not amused by the Dark Lord's parting comment. Lucius walked over to his wife and held her close. He was just as concerned for Draco as she was, but it was clear she was the one needing the most support of the two of them. They both glanced over at Draco's back simultaneously, smiling at one another. Their son was alive. With the end of every meeting ca

me that relief that he had escape death yet again, survived despite being surrounded by death only moments before. He was still standing before them. That thought alone was enough to smile for now, despite the situation that none of them could find a way out of.

Morning's break was creeping in, but there was no sun, the sky outside was blue and dark, the trees hung low, casting menacing, shadowed reflections on the wall through the windows. It was slowly getting lighter and clearer with every moment, had he really been there that long?

"Draco, what exactly was it the Dark Lord saw?" Lucius asked, striding back towards him.

Draco's attention snapped back from the daydream he had been lost in at his father's voice. "I think I should get back now. Back to Hogwarts," he answered, ignoring the question in hopes that his father wouldn't pursue an answer, because frankly, he wasn't even sure what had happened with Harry himself, or what it had meant. And until he did, he didn't want his father knowing and drawing his own conclusions.

He supposed the one good thing to come from the Dark Lord knowing was that he had been given more time, time, he so desperately needed to find a way out…

"Take me back?" He asked again, a small smile to his lips as his father took out his wand.

Harry frowned as he stared down the slowly increasing line of the slytherin table. Sleeplessness had driven him from his bed early, (even on a Saturday morning) and he had been the first down to breakfast, rubbing his tired eyes as he waited for that familiar face to pass through the doors. But it never came. Panic surged in his chest. The few moments of sleep he had stolen last night were filled with images of Voldemort, masked Death Eaters and Draco, and that unhinged him even more than usual. By the time Hermione and Ron slipped in to sit beside him (the latter still very reluctant to look at him), Draco was still nowhere to be seen.

Harry's skin was dull. The call still existed, he still needed to go to him but that hum was practically non-existent. He murmured a half-hearted _'good-morning'_ to his two friends before pushing his cold, untouched porridge away from himself, getting to his feet.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, confusion lining her eyes, "Where are you–"

"I need to go, I just…_can't_." And with that he fled the Great hall, not missing the resentful glare from Ron, nor the accusing whispers (that he was all too used to) thrown at him from the rest of his classmates.

The feral wind bit into his flesh like thousands of starving beasts, he winced, but his pace did not slow. The outside world was an escape from the hectic reality he was fleeing. Like flying, it tore him away from his concerns, distanced him from any self-loathing thoughts. But he could not escape them all…

_Why am I doing this to myself?_ He snarled. His ribs ached from every rapid breath as the icy wind tore into his lungs. Snow did not line the January grounds just yet but it was not far away. Wearing no outerwear beyond his cloak, he was freezing but he did not stop, did not give so much as a thought to where his unruly feet were carrying him, that is, until he ran out of ground to tread.

The undisturbed serenity of the black lake stared back at him, welcoming, calming. He wanted that peace, that blissful state of thoughtless oblivion, if only for one moment. Stooping at the lakeside, he dipped his fingers in, startling at the iciness of it, but not pulling away. His lips against Draco's, the thought of it struck his mind with as much force as the freezing water did his skin. But so did the smack to his jaw and the look of sheer contempt in those eyes.

Those eyes pierced him like a knife, even in his memory, and he stood bolt-upright, staring out across the darkness of the water once more, to where it disappeared into the limitless, grey horizon. Remembering that time (seemingly so long ago, before Voldemort's return, before the outbreak of war) where he had stumbled blindly into the Second Triwizard task of conquering the black lake to save his most precious…

A small, thoughtful smile bloomed at his lips, chapped from the biting cold as he raised his arms to unbutton his robes. There was no one outside this early on a Saturday (especially given the chill to the air), no one would see him. He would just escape, for a little while. How bizarre that he was now planning on wading in for something as simple yet just as precious as piece of mind, instead of a person close to his heart.

_No, you're planning it to escape all of the people closest to you,_ he corrected himself.

His robes, his shirt, everything shuddered to the dewy grass-bank, where he intended to leave _everything _else behind, if only for a moment. The breeze hit his exposed body like a bucket of ice, and the hurt ebbed away as he dipped his foot in thoughtfully. He wanted to dive in and wash away the bond, wash _Malfoy_ from his head; his smile, his stupid arrogance, perfect hair and soft lips. He wanted to douse every single memory of him with the frosty waters until there was no hurt left to remember. And drown those thoughts he would…

Draco climbed up from the pebbly floor below, he hated being apparated by someone else's power at the best of times, but to fall into a stony pit of sharp-edged rocks and pebbles was a new level of (until then) unexplored unpleasantness. As he climbed up, he brushed himself down, groaning upon seeing and _feeling_ that his feet were bare once more. "Couldn't have waited until I went inside the castle, Father?" He moaned in a low tone to himself.

His attention broke from resentful thoughts of his father to a brief splashing sound in the lake, as he passed it. His head snapped to the side, glancing over across the dark water only to see a student, (_naked_) who appeared to be either a really bad swimmer or drowning. His pulse heightened with anxiousness and suddenly his chest felt heavy as he realised…

It was Harry.

_~To Be Continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

**(Bound By) Clandestine Addiction**  
[Chapter Four]

Harry gasped for air at first, his body going rigid as the ice-cold water struck him with all the force of a thousand knives. He remained still for a moment, simply sinking into the welcoming abyss, with his eyes (glasses forgotten on the shore) staring up at the surprisingly glaring light above. It was so strange, how much clearer and brighter everything seemed from down here. The light of the skies, hidden behind such darkness glared brightly down on him with such intensity he had to squint to look up at it.

And Draco, the thoughts of him were crystal clear. The bond between them, it was the gravity drawing him in circles around Malfoy; it was the cause of the prickling static when they touched, and the persistent hum over his skin when they were near. The call lured him in, but his _feelings_ were why he stayed, why he did nothing to resist, why he wanted Malfoy – _Draco_ more than anything, more than even Voldemort's demise. This wasn't obsession, this was something much more chaste, impassable and complicated…

With a wheezy gasp, his fingers reached out fitfully, scraping handfuls of water. His lungs cramped and he felt the unhelpful waters lap at his limbs, allowing him to sink back further into the darkness. He was running out of air!

Suddenly, two strong arms seized him roughly round the middle. He winced at the iron-grasp; electricity surging through his body with a current so fierce it made his back arch, his head smashing back against his saviour's shoulder. He felt the body behind him struggle to stay afloat, he felt it convulse in the same way as he, though he also felt his rescuer's thoughts, his fear – for _him_.

Harry gasped, drawing in a suffocating mouthful of water. As he choked, he stared down, almost as if in slow-motion to the pristine, white hands clutching his naked chest determinedly – the source of the jolts shaking his body._ It's Draco_, was all he managed of coherent thought, before he was swallowed by a white light.

The white, unforgiving world he had left behind sliced him with its icy-cold, as the bitter chill on the air lashed at his naked, soaked body. His body screamed soundlessly as he was thrown to the muddy bank. Those hands, they stabbed at his chest with reviving punches, until his chest heaved and water escaped his mouth. Harry gasped for air, shuddering from the spiteful cold. He sat up swiftly; searching around with bleary eyes for his clothes, but could not make them out without his glasses (which he had left atop of them). His teeth chattered.

A familiar blur wavered in front of him – _far _too close, but he stared intently at the fuzzy shape, unperturbed without his sight since he did not have to meet the intense eyes he knew would be glaring with furious light. Suddenly, his body lurched, overcome with the cold and he felt those hands at his shoulders steadying him, just before that voice, laced with fury tore through his hazy cloud of existence.

"What the devil are you doing trying to kill yourself, _Potter_?!" Draco yelled, clutching Harry's shoulders in his hands tightly, with fear, with worry. He felt a sick and uneasy stab to his stomach as Harry regurgitated another mouthful of water.

Draco's white-blond hair hung low over his eyes, completely drenched in icy water, that dripped down around the curve of his nose. His eyelashes flicked against the droplets as he attempted not to keep his focus on Harry who was shivering, and unconsciously picked Harry's shirt up and threw it to him. "Here," Draco snarled. Harry looked a little stunned as he caught the shirt. Harry's naked body shuddered as the icicle-like globules raced down his skin. Draco couldn't help but glance over every now and again as Harry pulled his arms through, tugging at the hem so that it covered his freezing nether-regions.

"Well, Potter? Are you going to answer me?!" Draco asked once more. But Harry sat still, silent. He shivered once more and Draco glared down at him, in such a way, that Harry felt an uneasy vibe course throughout his body, not like that buzzing sensation that made him reckless, made him need. It was almost like those eyes were feeding him with disappointment, dismay. Harry's body was almost as white as his. Draco had never seen Harry so pale.

Draco held out his hand to Harry, maybe for the first time, showing him kindness as he offered to help him up. "Well?"

Harry blinked, his chapped and frosted lips parting as he surveyed the hand offered to him in confusion. He shuddered, teeth chattering as he slipped his icy fingers into Malfoy's hand, which curled around him slowly, drawing him to his feet. Breath escaped his mouth in wispy furls of fog and he stumbled, steadied by the hand that tightened around his blissfully not letting him go…

"I wasn't t-trying to k-kill myself," he stuttered from the cold, staring into Draco's softened expression. He longed for the cover of his clothes but was reluctant to pull away from the blond's grasp, knowing he would never be permitted this again. He tugged more insistently on the bottom of his shirt. "I was j-just…wanted to go…g-go for a swim…c-clear my h-head…" He knew how ridiculous that sounded but could not find the willpower to care. Everything had been crystal-clear in the water, he knew _exactly _why he felt the way he did.

He drew in a shaky breath, which cut his throat with the coldness of it. He still could not make Draco out to be anything more than a blurry shape without his glasses and for some reason that made him feel braver. Wondering dimly what he looked like in Draco's eyes at that moment, damp and wearing only his school-shirt, his lashes fluttered closed and he leant towards Draco's lips.

The blond's free hand came between them to stop him, though not with the harshness of before, merely gentle insistence that he remain, fingers splayed across his chest the very way Harry had done to him before.

Draco clenched his teeth together tightly, he could feel the tightness of his them etching painfully along his gum, gasping slightly to Harry's advance. "Harry, don't," he warned him, keeping his hand between their too-close bodies so Harry could not get closer.

That fierce, full buzz that had overwhelmed Harry so much had taken control of Draco's soul, he could feel himself weakening to it, and it hurt. He hated knowing that something inside him had so much control over him, more than he was beginning to be able to handle. As his hand rest between him and Harry, he felt that surging force electrocute him. He wiped his hand across his forehead at the building sweat.

"Y-You need to stay away from me!" Draco insisted, lightly pushing Harry away. His hand fell to his chest, where he pressed against the burning scar there. His head bowed down. His feet twitched against the cold and he felt something stabbing into his heel, he glanced down and grabbed the object that had scratched his foot.

He handed Harry's murky, mud covered glasses back as a static pull wrenched his chest once more. It hurt. It felt as though someone had sliced his scar open again and was pouring acid into the aching crease. He clawed at it again, winding motions overrunning him and he struggled to breathe.

This was the first time Harry had seen the scar on Draco's chest with his own eyes, the one that he had caused, the one he had…

Harry's though trailed off before the regrettable guilt could rear its ugly head. He took his glasses from Draco's free hand, (the one that the blond had seemed to forgotten was wrapped around his) wiping them on his damp school shirt before sliding them back on and Draco's fuzzy outline shimmered back into focus. Water clung to blond tendrils that stroked Malfoy's pale cheeks, the droplets trickling down his tense features, creating an irresistible path to that exposed chest, imperfect for only one scar, a scar that Harry could not escape responsibility for.

He pushed forward to close the gap between them, Draco's hand at his own chest offering little resistance. His own fingers reached out, tracing the scar carefully, Draco stiffened but did not pull away, and soft, soothing pulses, unlike the erratic shocks he'd felt before trembled through his skin. "I don't _want_ to stay away from you," he murmured, jaw set to keep his voice from shaking from the cold. "You can push me away but I'm not going anywhere. I'm only asking for a chance to prove–" His words were cut short by the slight shake of Draco's head and the sudden press of his hand to keep the last inch of space between himself and Harry. A small exasperated sigh pulled Draco's lips into a drained smile, and Harry smiled warmly in response, hope flaring in his chest despite the (expected) possibility that Draco might crush it at any moment.

Determination set Harry's brow and he chewed his lip for a fleeting moment, before he reached in for Draco's lips again.

Draco felt his heart accelerate, Harry was too close. He felt so exhausted with having so little sleep and his momentary rescue attempt, he was about ready to collapse. His eyes shimmered as Harry leant in on him and with that underlying surge throbbing stronger than ever, Draco wasn't sure if he was going to be able to resist him this time. Because what Harry wanted, he so desperately needed.

This bond between them, whatever it was that bound them together was only becoming stronger, and with every second that passed while he stood so close to Harry, it pulled him deeper and deeper into its depths.

Draco immediately raised both hands up to stop Harry's still dripping face, lips maybe a hairsbreadth apart. Each palm pushed roughly against his soft wet cheeks as he glared for a moment, their eyes like magnets as neither he nor Harry could bring themselves to resist. He sighed lightly and with a sudden plunge, smashed Harry's lips forward into his own.

Yanking the dark locks roughly, he pulled himself harder and harder against Harry's tender pink lips, mouths open and devouring the other hungrily. Suddenly he was battling Harry's tongue, exploring the wet texture of that hot mouth, discovering everything he had to offer, and he found himself hating that he liked it this much. His tongue slithered over his as he rolled it around, saliva of Gryffindor and Slytherin clashing with an immense force. He sank deeper into the very wet, very heavy force of the kiss; Harry was struggling to contend with it as Draco overpowered him.

With a sudden, surging heartbeat, he threw Harry backwards away from him, lips parting with a splash of saliva that dripped down Draco's fine chin. Harry tumbled to the muddy floor with a thump, like he wasn't already in enough pain just dealing with everything else. Hadn't Draco given him enough bruises? He felt his heart shatter as he sat watching Draco's angry expression in apprehension.

Draco wiped the side of his lip with his arm, his face curved in a disgusted way as he stumbled over to Harry and glared down at him. He bent down and gazed into those faded orbs of Harry's, once more reminding himself of how much he was hurting him. But he couldn't get close, that was what Voldemort wanted. He began mumbling, "_You're sick Potter_," over a few times, as he finally readied himself to get up.

As he stood, staring down at Harry's shattered shell, he hurled up a ball of saliva and spat in Harry's face. "Sick!" He shouted once more, and Harry flinched away.

Long, slender fingers toyed idly with the diamond-encrusted cane, and Lucius watched his only son carefully through the flames of the fire-call. They couldn't keep whisking Draco out of Hogwarts or it would begin to be suspicious, and the Owl post was watched constantly. Besides which, there were some things best said face-to-face. He surveyed the boy's posture, stiff and proper but with eyes that (would no doubt betray his thoughts so carefully concealed with occlumency) were lowered to an apparently interesting patch of carpet. His son had perfectly mastered the art of wearing his emotions behind a complacent mask of porcelain, but there were some things he could not hide from his father…

"You are aware, of course, that you are taking your role too far, Draco. It has unleashed just as many repercussions on you as it has on the Potter boy, more so in fact, since it is you that is dealing this unnecessary behaviour. It is most unbecoming, Draco. Consider your actions very carefully, my boy," the endearment caused the younger blond to raise his gaze to him at last, "because I am not sure you comprehend just how deep you may become."

He watched as Draco surveyed him vacantly for a few moments, before parting his lips in speech.

Silver shimmers glistened from Draco's eyes as he sighed. He wasn't ready to tell his father about this connection between himself and Harry yet, because he had only just started to accept it himself. He gazed skywards for a few small moments, allowing the dark void of the ceiling above to fill him with a clear and open mind as he readied his words.

"Look, Father, the closer _Potter_ and I become, the more chance the Dark Lord has of destroying him. He chose me to do this – after what happened with Dumbledore, I can't afford to let him down again, and if that means doing anything in my power to get as close to Harry as I can, then that's what I will do. It's nothing more then a ploy, and I'm disgusted that you suggest that it ever would be." Draco sneered. He was almost fooling himself, if not for the slip of the tongue – for calling _Harry_ by his first name it might has succeeded.

Draco's expression saddened, as he began to think about what would happen if he kept getting to close. He shook his head slightly at that thought. It wouldn't come to that.

"You indeed _cannot _afford to let him down, Draco," Lucius agreed, his voice low with warning, "Yet I do not believe you have considered just what this task will require of you, it may not always be a mere _act_ once things get out of hand. Have you given thought to what you may have to do to get Potter to fall completely?" He raised a suggestive brow, sure that his son was _quite_ aware of his implication.

"Can you honestly look upon a devoted Potter and do what must be done?" The confliction flickering behind the blond boy's grey eyes suggested he was thinking over that heavily. "I care not for his trifling heart," Lucius clarified coolly, "But I fear it might undo you if you break it."

"I said I can do it, didn't I?!" Draco snapped, even though he had no intention of doing such a thing to Harry, deep down in his heart he knew he couldn't, nor did he want to. But it was still frustrating that his father doubted him, even if in worry. Had he really seemed that pathetic when he was unable to perform the killing curse?

"I'll show you – I'll prove you all wrong!" Draco snarled. For a slight moment, Draco's anger overpowered him. For a brief second he wanted to carry out Lord Voldemort's wishes and in fact bring the great Harry Potter to his knees. A moment's malicious thought hung, then quickly vanished.

He sighed as he clenched his fists in such a way he swore he felt as though his nails broke the skin. He knew what his father was saying was one-hundred percent true. He would never be able to kill Harry, even if he wanted to, he would not be able to take him to his death.

"Nor take his body and heart without complications in your conscience," Lucius stated, reading his son's thoughts in the moment when the walls around his mind shivered with dread of his task. "I do not think you weak or incapable, my son, I merely…" He paused, shifting slightly from where he stood in his study, his head leaning in through the emerald flames of the grand fireplace.

"Your mother and I worry – I more so, for I know what is required of you. Take care and do not fear coming to me." He bowed his head after a moment, losing himself to the disgust of involving his family in such danger. "I will contact you soon, Draco." And with that, he drew back, his head vanishing from the fireplace, leaving Draco entirely alone with the raging inferno of thoughts that struggled to swallow him whole.

Draco gave the grate his father had parted from a slight smile, all he really wanted was to help him, yet Draco had angered himself over something so minor. He probably should have just opened up to his parents, allow them to take the burden from his shoulders, but he wanted to handle it by himself. He felt it was his obligation to handle it alone, for them, a trait that he and Harry had so deeply in common. They both never wanted nor believed they needed assistance, unwilling to except help, when in fact they were both two of the people who needed it the most.

Everything about his mission was getting to him, and just holding himself together was becoming a mission in itself.

A week of lightless moons passed, all of the concerns Draco carried for his task subsiding slightly without the immediate pressure of the Dark Lord on his mind. But the one thing that had been weighing him down relentlessly was Harry. When their lips had touched, it was as though the connection had intensified tenfold. He would just be sitting in class when suddenly the need to see Harry overwhelmed him.

Unlike before when he was able to simply push those thoughts away, now he was forced to excuse himself to the bathroom because he found himself either building a sweat or having a little trouble down below. All of which, started to really embarrass him. Luckily no one had noticed yet, but with the way things were going, someone was bound to catch him soon, and that was the last thing he needed on top of everything else.

Sat in the great hall, eating lunch with the other slytherins, Draco scanned the room for Harry. Even though he knew he couldn't get close, there was no harm in looking at the forbidden fruit. As his eyes bounced from person to person, they finally landed on Harry.

Harry could not help but thank whoever created the _Muffliato_ charm, (Hermione probably knew) it was the only spell he knew of that permitted he and his friends to discuss such important, covert things without being overheard or arousing suspicion.

"…When Dumbledore discussed Voldemort's _magpie_ behaviours I truly believe he was referring to his inability to resist using the greatest and most significant of objects for each Horcrux," Hermione relayed. Harry and Ron played along with the illusion the _Muffliato _charm created by picking at their food as she spoke (although Harry was sure Ron was playing his part and enjoying his dessert a little too well).

"That makes sense," Harry nodded, "The locket, the ring… The ring was _Slytherin's_!" He gasped the last part, clocking on to what his friend was saying. Hermione's lips tipped up in a triumphant smile.

"Exactly," she practically hissed, lowering her head a little, as that frighteningly brilliant look crossed her face. "The others, they _must_ be belongings of the Founders. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor are left–"

"Great so now we just have to rift through everything those three ever owned," Ron snorted, earning him a glare from Hermione that silenced him instantly. He went back to his pie.

"I have narrowed it down due to the information we've gathered over the holidays," she answered, her retort almost reprimanding. Harry could not help but smile a little. "Gryffindor is a complete mystery, I cannot figure it out for the life of me – maybe that was the one he intended when he set out to kill Harry and therefore never got round to it but in any case…"

Hermione glanced around, making sure no one was watching before pulling out her text book, one Harry did not clearly recognise, though it certainly looked worse for wear. "Hufflepuff's chalice – a _cup_, I am _sure_ that was what he chose but–" She clucked her tongue impatiently, "I can't figure out where it may be. Now _Ravenclaw_…" She trailed off, ensuring no one was watching, before pointing down at a picture in the book. A dark, faded engraving like the kind Harry had known the druids for, lay beneath her delicate finger.

"What's a _diadem_?" Ron asked, mouth full of his pork pie. Hermione grimaced in distaste.

"Essentially a tiara, Ronald," She bit back, turning her gaze to Harry, "It's _here_, in the _castle_!"

Harry's eyes widened. "At Hogwarts? But that's _brilliant_!"

"In geographical terms, yes," she agreed, though a small frown still creased her brow. "But Hogwarts is a big place, with numerous hidden passageways and enchantments. It could be _anywhere_."

Harry pulled his dessert about a bit more, watching as Hermione subtly closed the book and tucked it away when Neville and Ginny glanced their way. No one could tell what it was but it was best not to risk it. "With the Marauder's map and your brain Hermione we'll find it," Harry assured her, noting her broad smile at his complement. And with a murmur from his companion, the spell protecting their conversation ended.

"Good pie," Ron chewed out, finishing his final mouthful. This time even Hermione looked like she may laugh at his indifferent attitude, he always could be a little anti-climactic. There was a moment of silence between them, of thoughtfulness and then, Harry felt an elbow in his ribs.

"Not that I want to know," Ron began carefully, with no little amount of awkwardness, "But err…you and Malfoy… What's happening there?"

Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice and Harry felt his gut plummet a little in recollection of their last encounter (he had successfully avoided him since the kiss on his lips followed by the spit in his face). "It's not happening," Harry confirmed, not bothering to disguise the bitterness in his voice. He had acted out his indifference to all things _Malfoy_ well the last week or so, even in front of his friends and so did not feel guilty expressing his resentment.

"Why'd you ask?" he questioned the red-head. Ron shrugged, looking back to his plate and helping himself to another portion of pie.

"Malfoy is looking at you an awful lot."

Harry tipped his head back at Ron's words, catching those stormy eyes watching him intently. He felt his stomach flip jerkily at the look he caught in those eyes before they looked away hurriedly. Harry felt the smirk flicker at his lips as he turned back to his friends, dipping his spoon into his treacle tart. "Can't _imagine_ what he's looking over here for," he said a little too sarcastically (and far too smugly).

Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron coughed unnecessarily under his throat in awkwardness, but Harry delighted in the look he'd caught on Malfoy's face just then. It seemed his (Harry's) outward display of dealing, of distinctly not moping was driving him insane._ I can practically hear him seething_, Harry thought as he took a bite of his dessert.

Draco grabbed his fork and stabbed his pasty, as Harry ignorantly glanced for only a few moment's before turning away.

_He's ignoring me._

The blond continued to stab violently at his food, waiting for Harry to crack and look over, but he didn't, almost ten minutes passed and Harry hadn't looked back at him once. It was as if he was _trying_ to wind him up – and it was working!

"Draco, are you alright?" Goyle asked, jumping as Draco threw his plate to the floor. The tin sound of his cup following it echoed through the hall, drawing everyone's unwanted attention over at him. He abruptly leapt to his feet.

"I'm leaving," he hissed back at Goyle, and unintentionally everyone else who had turned their focus on him. Draco's robes flared as if to express his fury as he briskly made his exit.

_What's wrong with me?_ He wondered, _You told him to leave you alone, you told him to stay away, it's what you wanted!_

"Shut-up!" Draco shouted to no one other than the voices contradicting his temper. By the time he had reached the Astronomy Tower and had begun climbing the stairs, he had still not won the battle against the thoughts of Harry. Whatever he said, whatever he decided he did or did not want to do, Potter was like a ghost haunting him, one he could not get rid of (even when Potter made the effort to steer clear of him). And an irritatingly small voice in the back of his head had begun to whisper that it didn't want to either._ Shut it_, Draco hissed again.

Harry had been far too tempted to follow Draco out and catch him mid-sulk, but it seemed like ignoring him, liking doing exactly what he had asked and _'staying away'_ proved more effective at getting the blond's attention (oddly). So it was, that he eagerly ate up a second helping of treacle tart, feeling a little uplifted by his minor triumph when he followed Hermione up to Astronomy (Ron having moved his separate way to Muggle Studies).

The climb up to Astronomy was always tiresome, and yet, knowing Malfoy would be there only made him more eager to reach the classroom. Once he did however, he did not know what to do with himself. He was too wound up by his success that he had to pause to gather himself outside, before entering. His eyes roved the students filing into the room, spotting the familiar blond just ahead, already taking his usual seat. For once, Harry was grateful his usual place was a few seats across from the Slytherin.

That familiar, blissful buzz tickled his skin, and he dug his nails into his palms as he felt delicious tingles of Malfoy's frustration (of more than one kind) cause his trousers to tighten. Hermione inclined her head to him a few times, knowing that his tenseness must have had something to do with Malfoy, but thankfully not seeming to notice the predicament Harry was barely controlling under the desk. He shuddered with the intensity. They had been apart for too long after that kiss, after Draco had pulled him in for it – and it was driving him mad!

_Never mind that he pushed me away,_ Harry thought, _all I can think of is the damn kiss, and his hands on me – naked. Oh, Merlin, he saw me naked!_ His teeth grinded in the determination to _not_ flee the class and fist his burgeoning arousal to completion – what had him panting so suddenly?

His gaze flickered sideways to Malfoy, who was watching him still, the frustration pounding in his veins… _The memory of that kiss,_ he added mentally, _is that all Malfoy's doing?_ He turned back to face the class as a sharp elbow from Hermione alerted him to his Professor's approach, but too late…

"Do you find your daydreams more pivotal to your NEWT scores than my lecture, Mr Potter?"

Harry shook his head, horrified as he stared down at the blank parchment before him. Malfoy may have seen his façade of remaining ignorant to his (Malfoy's) presence, but beneath it all, Harry was thinking of him so erratically that he hadn't written a single thing down.

"See me after class, Potter," the Professor barked, before marching to the head of class. Harry ducked his head, hastening to copy the notes Hermione had taken, as his left hand subtle shoved his persistent erection down. He was _definitely_ not looking up at Malfoy again this lesson, whatever the bond demanded, Harry would obey the orders barked at him with spiteful rejection.

_I'll leave him alone if that's what he wants,_ he thought.

Draco fiddled with his quill as the lesson wore on. He ran his index finger over the tip and pushed against its point end every now and again with frustration. His face scrunched up like a bratty child as Harry remained indifferent to him and when the teacher confronted Harry's lack of attention, Draco felt a twinge in his stomach. His fingers stretched forward across his desk and clung to the end as his neck twisted sideways against the pull. He couldn't take his eyes away from the _Chosen One. _

He leant back into his chair, exhausted by his very thoughts, until the lesson came to end. He grabbed his bag, telling Crabbe and Goyle to go ahead and wait for him in the dungeons and purposely took his time filling his bag with his pencils and textbooks, while the other students quickly vacated the room.

Approaching the door himself, he glanced over at Harry, (the only remaining student) who was _still_ paying him no mind and hissed as he left.

Harry huffed under his breath as he swung his bag higher over his shoulder. That had been the last thing he needed. Detention, a lecture on how important NEWTs were and how bad his scores had been recently – _any _of those he could have taken in his stride. But a sympathetic speech on his efforts for the fight against Voldemort?

Harry winced, yet more special treatment for the _Chosen One_. Were it not for Snape making his life a misery as usual in Defence Against the Dark Arts, he was sure he'd go mad. He stopped at that, shutting the door to the classroom behind him. Never had he ever expected to rely on _Snape _to be the model teacher, although now he thought about it McGonagall didn't give him any unnecessary reprieve either…

A sudden slam into his side made him jerk roughly from his musings. Harry yelped, and he caught himself against he wall, rough stone grating against the flesh of his palm, while his bag tumbled to the ground, scattering its contents. He gasped raggedly from the shock. Tingles like lava licked up his spine, until his neck snapped to the side from the pressure. He could not help but permit a low gasp of pleasure escape his lips as he was thrown roughly back into the alcove under the stairwell. He knew instantly who by.

Inside, his organs were churning, heart thudding frantically, his lungs were writhing for air but outwardly, the moment he looked up into those eyes, (darkened by lust) he betrayed nothing but calm surprise. Draco Malfoy was the one seeking him out, the one pressing inappropriately against his body, that meant, with their roles reversed, Harry was to play the impassive bastard.

_I think I can manage that,_ he thought gleefully, recalling the passion of the kiss as Malfoy had pulled him to his body and then the humiliation spat in his face a moment after…

"Can I help you with something, _Malfoy_?" Harry asked coolly, though making sure to accentuate the blond's _surname_ (not dignifying him with his first name as he had been doing in his mind) with as much bitterness as he could manage. He would prove he was not that whimpering, love-struck puppy (not entirely) though he was unsure who he was attempting to prove this to, himself or Draco…

Tensed palms, and curled fingers held Harry painfully tight beneath them, even with a slight struggle, the _Chosen One_ was unable to move. The cold surface of the stone behind him chilled Harry's neck, causing it to pimple slightly while his heart pounded beneath those strong, Slytherin hands.

Draco's glowing, silver eyes burned with immense fury at Harry's calmness. He felt frustration pump through every vein in his body down to the last fingertip as he held Harry in place in the shadows beneath the stairs. His white-blond strands hung between them, interlocking with Harry's unruly locks and his angered smile eased slightly, reminding himself just who was in control.

Their eyes met, and neither Harry nor Draco were able to blink or glance away from the other. Harry was wearing that smug look which made Draco grip at his wrists even harder, forcing his thumbnails into them until Harry yelped. He smiled at the slight pain he inflicted.

Harry swallowed hard as Draco leant forwards, hot breath steaming over the flushed skin of his neck with heated puffs, crackling energy riding across the tormented flesh each time Draco drew breath. The gravity surged with electrical pulses, drawing them closer and closer. Harry's tongue swept across his lips in anticipation, and Draco's darkened eyes darted to the movement, relishing the sight of nervousness.

"You don't fool me, _Potter_," he whispered, a warm wetness running over Harry's ear while he continued to speak. "You _loved_ it when I kissed you, didn't you?" Draco's pants sent chills over Harry's earlobe and he twitched slightly when Draco bit into it hard, as if probing Harry to answer. "_Well_?"

Harry's back arched a little, his fingers reached up to snag hold of the sleeves of the Slytherin's robes. His lips caught between his teeth to stifle a groan (badly) as his eyes screwed shut. "What does it _matter_?" He ground out, jaw set. Malfoy would _not_ do this to him. Not push him away then clasp him to him once more – he wasn't _anyone's_ plaything! _Not even to a Malfoy,_ he mentally hissed.

"You told me to stay away from you enough times; shouldn't you be relieved I listened?" His voice was fighting to remain indifferent, but the all-too _slytherin_ smile twisting those lips suggested the fight was I vain. "Now you don't have to soil your perfect pureblood hands with the _Chosen One_," he added with no little amount of bitterness, still burnt by the affection _spat _back at his face.

"You can go tell _everyone_ how pathetic I was." His voice was stronger, braver than he felt inside, where his lungs trembled with breath, where his stomach clenched in rejection of his words. Inside, where a voice was screaming at him to sink into the rough embrace and melt under the force of the flames.

Malfoy's grip on Harry's wrists weakened slightly at his stern, more confident words. He had indeed told him to stay away, but the fact that Harry seemed like he was purposely avoiding him (actually doing as Draco wanted) frustrated him all the more. Because then he didn't have an excuse.

"Shut up, _Potter_," Malfoy sneered, his hands tightening back over Harry's wrists and his nose crinkling in that familiar, disgusted look that betrayed the confusion and for the first time, the _heartache _that this bond was forcing upon him.

The pull was overwhelming him; it always seemed stronger when he was in closer contact with Harry. His body seemed to double in temperature, and his chest ached, the scar of _Sectumsempra _still burning beneath his robes. But that wasn't as bad as the pull itself, or the Dark Mark, which, on top of everything else, was also stabbing at him with the deep, unbearable sensation of hot needles piercing him continually.

"What do you _want_, Malfoy," Harry growled through a wince, not surrendering by looking away from that glare. _Because it certainly isn't me_, his mind supplemented bitterly. But with that question Draco pressed forward, his knee sneaking between his thighs. A stunned gasp escaped him and he tossed his head to the side, his neglected erection throbbing agonisingly beneath the unrelenting pressure of Draco Malfoy's body.

_Blimey_, he mentally gasped. _Why am I letting him get to me? This is so wrong._

_You aren't_ letting _him do anything, _another voice argued. _You don't have a choice when it comes to him…_

Draco felt something hard brush against his leg and grinned slyly as he noticed the bulge in Harry's trousers. "What's this, _Potter_? Got a little hard-on, have we?" Draco laughed, mocking him as he moved his hand down...

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He was blushing, he _knew _he was. But he could not help it. He'd just come – in his _underwear _in front of Malfoy! The said blond moved to stand over him, and Harry groaned slightly at the aftermath of sensations surging through his body. Maybe it was better in some ways that Malfoy had not deemed him worthy enough to come by his bare hand. I definitely wouldn't have been able to get up if he had – stupid bond…

Struggling to sit up, on his knees, he held his quivering hand over his soiled robes again. "_Tergeo_!" He managed out, sighing with relief as his spendings vanished from his trousers. That perfect shadow still loomed over him, and looking up with glistening eyes he saw Malfoy still there, surveying him with confliction flickering in his own stormy orbs.

"What are you still doing here, if you're not connected to me?" Harry asked, not expecting an answer (at least not an honest one). _If he wants to be a pouf in denial so be it,_ he thought, _I know the truth_. He'd felt Draco hardening, felt it through their bond even _before _they'd even touched. _The idiot will realise he can't lie to me sooner or later…_

"Or maybe…you want a turn?" A smile twitched at the sides of his lips as he watched Draco's brows rise in embarrassed shock. Harry's smirk broadened and he knelt up further, shoving Malfoy's thighs roughly until he stumbled back to stand against the wall.

****CENSORED. FOR THE FULL UNCENSORED VERSION PLEASE SEE LINKS ON MY PROFILE****

"Sick Potter!" He hissed, re-zipping his pants and knocking past him as he grabbed his wand from the floor.

Harry's nose wrinkled as Malfoy spat at him again, and leapt to his feet, seizing his wand and bag from the ground before chasing after him. He reached him after a short sprint, seizing his arm and roughly turning him on the spot to face him. Draco's face drew into a telltale sneer, and his lips parted for another insult no doubt but Harry cut him off, sealing their mouths with a kiss.

He groaned at the feel of Malfoy's lips against him, it set his body alight as if he were doused with petrol. An inward smirk glowed behind their joined lips. His free hand seized a fistful of blond hair and Harry held Draco to him as his tongue swept out, pushing the remainders of Draco's come with it. He drew back, triumphant at Draco's disgust as he realised what he (Harry) had done, beginning to spit the shared ejaculate on the floor.

"Next time you open your vile gob and spit at me," Harry began, walking away from the Slytherin, "You just remember who still has a mouthful of your come." And with that, he walked through the archway, disappearing round the corner and out of sight. _That's it_, he thought, _for once he can be the one left standing there, confused…_

~To Be Continued...


	5. Chapter 5

**(Bound By) Clandestine Addiction**  
[Chapter Five]

The dungeons were cold during the February month, so even more firewood was required to keep the Slytherin common room free of chill. Ron had previously earned himself a weeks worth of detentions and his punishment had been helping Hagrid in the forbidden forest to collect firewood for just that. Without magic. He wasn't happy in the least about it. He was missing an extra meal chopping firewood for a house he loathed.

"That's what you get for talking back during class, young Ron," Hagrid murmured to his complaints, before throwing the wood over to Ron, who placed it into a large brown sack with the rest of the wood they had already collected.

"Why didn't Harry and Hermione get the same punishment then?" Ron asked bitterly, it had been them who caused him to talk in the first place. However, he supposed it was _he_ that had snapped back at Professor Snape after the deduction of _far _too many house points…

"Keep to it, Ron," Hagrid encouraged, completely ignoring his last question. It wasn't surprising really, he did ask it under muffled breath. "You can take that bag now, when you're done, come back for more," Hagrid instructed, still chopping at the woodblocks as Ron left miserably. Asking him to do perform manual labour made him sour, especially when it involved hard work, if it had been Harry or Hermione, they would have just got on with it, but not Ron. He always moped about things, feeling sorry for himself when it came to anything like this, to be fair, he was rather unlucky when it came to getting caught talking…

As he entered the Slytherin dungeon, (which were left open for him by Professor Snape) he noticed Malfoy sitting strangely alone. "Where's ol' reliable Crabbe and Goyle?" He asked in a tone designed to provoke, walking over to the fire and throwing in the wood.

Draco looked blindly at Ron. He couldn't even bring himself to respond. He had other things on his mind, and the events with Harry a few days ago were still ringing clear images through his mind. He hurt.

"Well? I asked you a question, Malfoy," Ron sneered, his red hair flicking in his eyes as he gazed spitefully over at the blond.

"What's it to you, Weasley?" Draco finally replied callously, glancing over at the boy who stood bewildered and murmuring under his breath. _What does Harry see in you?_ He mumbled, watching as Draco stood to his feet.

"What did you just say?" Malfoy asked tersely, wondering if he had heard him correctly.

"Just wondering what the hell you did to make Harry go so soft for you," Ron sneered, his hands tensed into fists either side of him. _You've ruined my best friend. _"Way I see it he'd have done better to have done away with you than let this…this queer bond glue him to you. He bloody well watches you – _wherever_ you go! And what's worse you can't even give him the time of day!"

He pulled the now empty wood basket into his arms, giving himself an obstacle to walking right over there and smacking that shocked look right from Malfoy's face. He growled exasperatedly under his breath. "He was all-but set to marry my sister until you came along and somehow made him believe he's in love with you! Though how anyone can love _you_ is beyond me…"

Draco laughed, throwing aside his amazement, mostly because he was a little shocked that Harry had told his friends about this, when he himself was struggling to except it.

"Like I want him to be all over me _all the time,_ it's _pathetic. _Potter ruined _himself_ the day he turned me down to become a Gryffindor and mixed with the likes of you, _Weasley_." Draco looked the red-head up and down with disgust; coming into the Slytherin room to accuse him of such petty crimes? It sickened him.

He never asked for this, not for any of it. He hated that he was bound by the Dark Lord to carry out any wish he desired. That a spell cast upon him by Harry had formed something stronger than magic itself. He hated it all of it. Because he had never felt more pain than this, than knowing in the end he would have to take Harry to his death. He closed his eyes for a moment, and the pain subsided, if only for a moment. In that single moment he held his hand over his chest and into his cloak.

"GET OUT!" Malfoy shouted suddenly, pulling out his wand and directing it at Ron.

Ron's eyes widened with a flicker of fear and anger. He fumbled for his own wand, keeping it trained on Malfoy as he backed towards the door. "You made my best mate fucking queer! You made him love you then you use him as a convenience for mopping up your hormonal _spendings_! As much as it makes me sick he loves you – _somehow_! So if you're man enough to do _You-Know-Who's _bidding than be man enough to fix the mess you've made of him!"

At that moment Ron saw Malfoy lose it, saw him send a crimson curse aiming for his head, and bolted out the door, the spell narrowly missing him. He did not stop until he was well clear of the dungeons.

Draco sighed heavily, putting his wand away, Weasley was long gone as he returned to the couch he'd occupied just before, and he plunged down onto it with a small sigh. His head fell back and creased against the emerald-green and white cushions. He had this sick feeling churning around in his stomach and his heart was pounding. His eyelids felt heavy and his Dark Mark continued to sting at him with all the venom of a scorpion's tail. It hadn't calmed at all since his and Harry's little clash at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

He slowly pulled up his sleeve and gazed at his burning skin, even though the Dark Mark was concealed, a red rash remained in its place. Needle-like sensations all stabbed him at once with threatening reminders of his pledge to the Dark Lord. His eyelids clenched shut, as a few small droplets of water fell from the corners of them. He wiped them dry quickly as he re-opened them.

"Why is this happening to me?" He whispered quietly to himself. "'If it wasn't for this ridiculous deed with the Dark Lord, none of this would be even be happening." His teethed scraped together in frustration. If Harry had never worked out he was a Death Eater, he would never had cast _Sectumsempra_, and there would be no bond between them. But it was his mark he blamed more, rather then Harry, that ugly tattoo, _that_ thing was responsible for all of this.

His sadness soon turned into something far more dark and powerful as he leant up, angry all of a sudden. He wanted to get rid of this thing that was causing all this pain, and all the problems attached to it. He quickly jumped to his feet and rushed over towards the exit, fury carrying his footsteps along the cold concrete that lead him finally to the boys' bathroom.

He gazed up beneath white-blond locks as he reached the sinks, his reflection showing back something and someone he didn't want see. He squinted at himself, turning away from the person staring back and grabbed his wand. Holding its tip to his arm he began to chant, casting a spell that sliced through the skin as if it were no more than butter.

Crimson blood, splattered the sinks as he used his wand like a knife, the substance seemed almost _black _with the amount flooding from him. With his white skin now painted with his own blood, the Dark Mark appeared blacker and more furious than before as the snake-like-shape fought against his self-affliction.

"I don't want this anymore!" were the words that muffled over his stuttering lips as he repeated his spell against the burning, resisting flesh.

Even if he could wipe away his Dark Mark, the bond he had Harry shared would still remain, and the problem that was Lord Voldemort would not go away. His foolishness to 'cleanse' himself of it was overbearing, every time he cut, he knew there was no way out of this and his desperation flew to new heights of madness.

He knew it. But he refused to accept it.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Came a cry from behind him, and as Draco's wand flew from his hand he turned, only to meet a crack across his cheek.

"What do you think you're _doing_?!" Harry snarled, seizing a stunned Draco's bloody arm and examining it. Amongst the blood, the butchered skin he saw the dark magical ink glaring furiously at him, and something akin to vomit caught in his chest. He had never seen Draco's mark this close before, and it felt like the biggest sin on earth that it was there at all, marring his perfect, comparably innocent body.

_He doesn't deserve any of this_, he thought and every inch of his loathing for Voldemort intensified as he raised his wand over Draco's arm. "This is only for minor injuries but it's better than nothing – and you can hardly go to Madam Pomfrey," he stated, watching Draco blink at him confusingly, as if his brain had not caught up that he was there just yet. "_Episkey_!" He watched with morbid fascination as the skin moulded back together slowly, though the severity of the wound meant that shallow cuts still remained, and blood still cried from the torn flesh. Harry frowned, wishing that he could do a better job.

"Sorry," he murmured at his partial failure. Draco was watching his face with trained concentration, and it made Harry a little uneasy. As much as their closeness, their touching pleased him (and that infernal bond) that dazed look, as if Draco were looking into his mind frightened him a little. He had not seen the Blond like this ever; the closest he had come was that night…

_Where this damn bond started._

Harry cleared his throat needlessly, giving his wand a final flourish. "_Ferula_!" He chanted, bandages appearing from the end of his wand (making Malfoy jump at their sudden burst) and wrapping tightly around the wound. "I'm no Mediwitch I guess," He laughed awkwardly, "But erm…yeah…"

Draco was _still_ watching his eyes, and Harry realised that he was probably crossing the line by still holding Draco's wrist and let it go immediately, even stepping back to permit the blond a little more breathing space. But Draco did not move, scarcely blinked, as if his problem, the reason for his staring were for something else altogether.

"I would ask you why you were doing that to yourself," Harry dared to speak, leaning against the un-bloodied sink closest to Draco, "But I suppose…I can relate." He tugged his fringe unconsciously over his scar with a sad smile, waiting for Draco to speak, to move – _anything._

Draco flinched, trembling as Harry appeared from one of the toilet stalls to grab his arm, clean fingers running along his bloody wound as he chanted a healing spell over him. He watched hazily as bandages formed round his sliced, marked skin. Standing in shock for a few moments, he stared blindly at Harry who was still clutching his wrist and gasping for air, he shoved him away.

The words he wanted to say struggled to roll over his lips as he turned away from Harry with distress. An overwhelming look of pain saturated his troubled expression and he forced his gaze to remain the other way, the way that kept Harry from looking into his face.

His breath faltered slightly as he sneered. "Leave," he groaned half-heartedly through his teeth, his eyes swelling and causing his voice to turn croaky as tears seized control of his voice. He must have seemed pathetic. He growled at that thought. _I'm not pathetic!_

He stood infuriated as Harry remained, and moved his face nearer to the boy's, donning a disgusted look as his angry features mixed in with the suddenly overwhelming misery.

"I said _leave, Harry_!" He shouted, as if using his first name would show he really did want to be left alone. Draco felt ashamed, a sudden rush of regret that Harry had to see _that _ran over him. The only thing he could do to handle this situation was turn away from it. His eyes moved from Harry again as he turned his back to him. He didn't want Harry to see him like this. His fingers clenched tightly into fists, straining the muscles in his mangled arm, and he watched the lines of blood force through the bandage with the pressure, as if punishing himself further from Harry witnessing his act. He waited but Harry didn't move.

_Please go away_, he prayed.

Draco turned round to finally face Harry again, who was still standing without intention to move. Marching over to him, Draco shoved him backwards harshly with eyes stern and dark, almost black, as he insisted that Harry leave again.

"I'm _not _leaving!" Harry spat as his back crashed into the unforgiving porcelain sink. "You can't run away from things forever, least of all Voldemort, and _certainly _not me!" His eyes caught sight of the crimson stains bleeding across the bandages and his hand shot out, grasping the top of Draco's arm tightly to stop him from aggravating the wound. His emerald gaze remained on the bandage, as Draco's self-loathing, his wretchedness swept through his body.

"You know…in the Graveyard, when Voldemort returned–" He watched Draco flinch at the name, "He had me trapped, he cut my arm in the same place and it hurt and I was scared…" His voice trailed off to a soft whisper, in relaying something he had spent the last few years struggling to forget, the nightmare of that night, the place that had plagued his dreams every night since. His thumb hovered over Draco's wound, stroking the air just above without actually touching it. How he wished he could just rub the vile mark away for him…

"It might seem cowardly or…or _pitiable _but… You took the mark because he would have killed you and then your parents didn't you?" He paused, but Draco did not answer right away, and Harry did not give him time to. "If it were me…I…I would have let him kill me, just to escape it all, because I'd have been too afraid to take the mark… In fact if…if Cedric hadn't been there with me that night in the Graveyard, I might have been wretched enough to let him kill me and that's…that's _far _more pathetic and weak. What _you _did was…_brave_."

His voice was all-but a whisper on the cold air between them, and the desolateness sounded strange on his tongue. He'd had to be strong and silent for his friends, had to remain unmoved by tyrants like Umbridge and worst of all, he had to go on, despite how much it hurt, all because he was burdened with that stupid _prophecy_!

He was the only one to kill Voldemort, so he couldn't give up. And the unfairness of it all; of being a boy carrying a man's burden was wearing him down bit by bit. _I guess I can see why Dumbledore was so accepting of the fact that he was dying, and so ready to suggest that Snape kill him, _he thought, raising his eyes to meet Draco's once more.

This was what he wanted; he wanted Draco to need him in the same way, to stop pushing him back when he offered help. There was something about Draco that made him feel like he could give in for a while, something that made Harry vulnerable, and he liked that – perhaps a little too much.

_He makes me feel embarrassed, and shamed and hazy with feelings this _figure-head _the wizarding world makes me out to be shouldn't feel. He makes me feel human…_

Harry watched that perfect, ghostly face, unwavering, waiting for the explosion that always seemed to follow this kind of intensity.

A large sighed tumbled out of Draco's throat, part of him was angry and annoyed and another part of him was ready to crumble. Even with Harry's kind words, it didn't change much, and he had it wrong, so wrong.

"The only person who can be considered cowardly here is me," He started, but stopped as Harry became all to intrigued.

The truth was, he didn't bare that mark out of bravery. No, he carried it with fear. He was far too scared to die being brave and defending good, so afraid that he took on the mantra of evil and carried out the Dark Lord's wishes in order to live. Harry had it so backwards. Wasn't it more noble to die knowing you had done what was right, than live a life you hate, just because you feared leaving this world? He was anything but _brave_.

Harry half-expected Draco to continue. But he didn't. He left Harry without an answer as to why he was the coward. But Harry was smart. Draco didn't need to give an explanation. He would work it out eventually wouldn't he? And for the sake of admitting how much of a coward he was, he preferred not to carry on and give Harry the satisfaction of seeing him completely fall apart.

"I'm going to go and clean this up a bit," Draco sighed, allowing Harry a smile for a few moments, before the frown returned.

Harry felt his insides flutter at that brief, fleeting smile, but before Draco could turn away, he reached out to grab his shoulder, only to let his hand fall away uselessly under Draco's gaze before it reached him. How could he possibly help someone who didn't want to be helped, least of all by him?

"Okay," he began shakily, "But you didn't kill Dumbledore. You made purposefully doomed attempts, you talked the talk but when it came to the actual task – taking someone's life, you didn't do it. I heard Lestrange screaming in your ear to do it but you lowered your wand. Despite the pressure and all of the people there, that could kill you if you didn't. You may have done a lot of rotten things but you've never killed anyone – and _don't _tell me it was because of Snape, because your wand was lowering before he got there." His eyes were burning with belief, with passion so much so that he swore he could _feel _it.

"You went against the crowd despite the repercussions and…that's what _bravery_ is." He stopped then, allowing his words to sink in, but when Draco's frown increased with disbelief, Harry felt something in him ache. "Why don't you believe anything I say to you? Why do you…push me away?"

Draco halted, swallowing hard at Harry's accusations. He really hoped Harry wasn't going to bring that up, because he knew that again, he had been too afraid then to _kill _anyone. It wasn't bravery; it wasn't any of the things Harry said it to be.

He felt strips of pain flash through his chest from Harry's agony. Until now, he had never really grasped just how much it had hurt Harry to see his headmaster (whom he considered a loved-one) fall to his death right before his very eyes. Not just Dumbledore, but all the people Harry had watched die. Those feelings flooded through Draco as he turned to face Harry at last.

"You want to know why, _Potter_? You really want to know why?" His anger besieged him again. He was tired, and near delirious as he finally answered Harry's question in such a way that made him seem like he had completely lost it.

"It's what I…what I want." His words stumbled as he reached for his wand.

He sighed as if unable to follow through with what he wanted to say, what he needed to say, because as soon as he said it, Harry would only fall for him all the more. And he didn't want resist him, he couldn't, not with the warn out state he was in.

"I _need _you to stay away from me!" Draco snapped back at Harry who continued to ask why.

"_Flipendo_!" He shouted, watching Harry fly backwards across the floor.

Harry struggled to sit up, shooting a furious glare at Draco. _Maybe this version of him should be called Malfoy, _he thought as he held his own wand aloft as protection. "You need me to stay away but you don't _want _me to, do you? I said it once, I'll say it again – you're a bloody liar, Malfoy!" He leapt to his feet. "If you _wanted_ me to, you wouldn't find staying away from me so hard. You wouldn't have waited for me in the Astronomy Tower!" He stood there, frozen for a moment, before shaking his head exasperatedly. "I did what you asked, I stayed away from you before and you came looking for me. What's going to stop us going round and round in circles?"

Draco turned and strode towards Harry, seizing the collar of his shirt and shoving him backwards until he reached the sink. He pushed Harry's head back into the bloodied sink, which burned the boy's back with the unnatural arch. With a furious, fiery glare from the blond, he twisted the hot tap on over Harry's face. Steaming water burned that honey-hued flesh, and crying pleads wrenched from Harry's throat. Draco pulled back.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" Draco shouted, raising his wand to Harry again as the boy stumbled away from the steaming water.

"_Locomotor Mortis_!" Harry screamed, his face burning from the scalding water and he watched as Malfoy was almost thrown by the way his legs locked together, freezing him where he stood unless he wished to topple over. Harry felt pained tears brew in his eyes and he blinked them back defiantly, he'd felt worse, and he'd be damned if he cry over such a trivial pain just for Malfoy. _Even if it's the fact that this is _his_ doing that makes it hurt more,_ he thought, clutching the burnt side of his face gingerly as he approached Malfoy.

"Don't come looking for me again unless the first words you say to me are _'I'm sorry'_ and _'I lied_'," Harry sneered, swatting Malfoy's wand out of his hand. "Good luck getting down to the dungeons with that leg-locking curse on _Malfoy_." Harry considered him a moment, eyes still watering before he turned away, heading towards the door.

Draco groaned angrily as he attempted to hobble out of the bathroom.

"Potter!" He mumbled beneath his breath as he finally reached the doorway, but Harry was long gone. Maybe he had gone too far this time. He forced that thought out. _No. He needs to stay away from me. And I can't keep giving into him. Or myself._ He flinched at the reminder as he continued to struggle along back towards the Slytherin dungeons, hoping no one would see him in such an embarrassingly feeble state.

"Ouch!" Harry winced as Hermione dabbed at his face with healing salve. He grimaced at the icy, stinging sensation that spread across his face each time she brought it to his skin, and his stomach lurched at the pungent smell. Ron's nose wrinkled from where he sat on the bed opposite, though Hermione merely rolled her eyes.

"The more it hurts the better it is for you," she recited, holding his chin with her free hand as she continued, the concoction seeming to wipe away the scalded flesh, leaving clean, unblemished skin in its place.

"You really are brilliant, Hermione," Harry said through a grimace, "Thanks." He saw the infuriated expressions crossing both of his friends' faces and knew what they meant. They knew this was Malfoy's work, and he wasn't entirely sure what to say to them that would appease their anger any, if indeed there was anything he _could _say…

Luckily, their fuming silences came to an abrupt end, saving him a search for words.

"Harry, why are you letting him _do this_ to you?" Hermione asked with concern, breaking the silence that had previously been looming. Harry's broken expression was all too much for her to handle. "I hate seeing you like this," she added. Her words were soothing and calming, reminding Harry that though she didn't understand, she still cared

"I'll tell you why! Because he's a bloody idiot that's why!" Ron cut in furiously, marching over to Harry worried, for the first time offering him a little sympathy since finding out about this entire mess. Sympathy in his own way that is

"Ron." Hermione shot him a warning glare as he went fuddle-faced.

"What? I was only saying – it's true though, ain't it Harry?" Ron smiled, trying to lighten the situation with his bad attempts at humour.

Harry offered a feeble smile, and Hermione (sitting back in front of him now that his face had been repaired) gaze at him thoughtfully as he spoke. "I guess I am an idiot," he admitted with a distant look. He should have been furious with Draco! Livid! And he had been, but with the burn of the water washed away and the memory of that half-smile on the blond's lips, his anger was swiftly diminishing.

"I just don't understand how he can… Urgh!" He growled under his breath, kicking the table before him sharply in frustration. "He's insane! One minute he's screaming at me to get away from him and the next he's looming after my classes and…" He trailed off at his friends' blushes, recalling just how awkward it had been when he'd told them about his _'interaction' _with Draco at the Astronomy Tower. "I just don't…know how to _fix _this…"

He dropped his head into his hands in an effort to avoid their sympathetic stares and closed his eyes slowly. The ever-present buzz of their connection was still there, he had become accustomed to it now so that it only really shocked him (literally) when they touched. _Like today_, he thought, recalling how his assistance had been thrown back in his face once again.

_How can I care about someone who lies, who hurts me, who _hates _me so much?_

Hermione felt her insides clench. Harry was utterly overwhelmed by these feelings for Draco. It was obvious, even to her, and she could not help but remember how much it had hurt when she saw that Lavender Brown girl all over Ron last year. She could relate to that kind of pain. She knew how it felt to have her heart broken, even if it wasn't in the same way.

She reached for Harry and pulled him into a hug. No words she could offer would take away the pain, and she knew that. It seemed Harry's life was full of pain, of every sort and she sometimes questioned herself about whether she would be able to be as strong as him, if she had been in his shoes. Probably not.

Ron fidgeted a little as he too walked over and placed his hand over Harry's shoulder. Maybe he wasn't as understanding as Hermione, but he was not completely dim-witted enough to _not know _Harry needed his friends right now.

"It's just Malfoy," Ron said, smiling at Harry and hoping he would see the light side of that statement.

"It's just Draco," Harry agreed, his body suddenly weighted, as if his veins had been pumped full of led. "And I won't go to him anymore." His body stiffened with determination. He had meant what he'd said to Draco, he didn't want to see him again unless the first thing out of the boy's mouth was an apology and the truth. But his resolve didn't appease the hurt any.

"Listen," Hermione said softly, drawing back from him a little, "Let's put this out of our minds for now – I've got a lead on the diadem!" Her voice was excited suddenly (and rather pleased with herself). Harry tilted his head slightly at the devious smirk crossing her features.

"Well I asked around the Ravenclaws, who I might add are _very _unhelpful considering who I was asking _for_!" She gestured to Harry with an irritated scowl. "Honestly, you would think they didn't _want _the Light to win!"

"Wandering from the point, Hermione," Ron prodded, earning himself a scowl from his girlfriend.

"_Anyway_," she continued, "When the _living_ members of Ravenclaw proved to be entirely unhelpful, I singled out the _Grey Lady_…"

"The Ravenclaw House Ghost?" Ron asked, his expression twisting with confusion.

"More than that," Hermione answered, her voice lowering the way it always did when she relayed her findings. "She was – _is _Rowena Ravenclaw's _daughter_."

"She knows where it is?!" Harry gasped, literally on the edge of his seat. But Hermione shook her head and both he and Ron visibly slumped.

"No, but the horcrux – it is _definitely _the diadem! She told me the story of how the tiara was lost and just _who _else do you think she told the story to?" She perked a brow, perhaps to accentuate her point, perhaps at how easily seduced the ghosts of Hogwarts were. "A 'student who had seemed so charming and understanding'–"

"_Tom Riddle _knew," Harry concluded, "So it's definitely the tiara and it's _definitely _a horcrux."

"Brilliant," Ron murmured, falling into the chair beside Harry, "Like you said before though, Hogwarts is a big place, with some places that are hidden inside it! How many more rooms that are concealed, just like the Room of Requirement are there? Hundreds probably, in a place this size! We don't even know where to _begin _looking for somewhere like that or how to get in to them if we find one!"

Harry and Hermione both looked at him so quickly they risked whiplash. Hermione watched her boyfriend, mouth agape. "Ron!" She gasped, reaching forward to snag his arms and shake him slightly. "You're brilliant! _Brilliant _– don't you see?"

"I'm brilliant?" Ron asked, unable to move past that hurdle. Hermione gave an impatient tut.

"The Room of Requirement! Of course! It is so obvious!" She turned to Harry, without releasing her crushing hold on Ron's arms. "Why didn't we think of it before? When you hid the Half-Blood Prince's book that's _exactly _where you did it! It'd be anyone's first guess to hide it there!"

Harry nodded slowly, his mind reeling like a runaway film in fast-forward, struggling to process such a vast amount of information. He massaged his temples slowly, closing his eyes against the room. "Right, so when do we go get it?" He asked, "The Sword of Godric Gryffindor is still hidden upstairs in my trunk, why can't we get it now and we can be done with another Horcrux?"

Hermione agreed that now was as good a time as any to go after it, and by the uplifted look on Harry's face, it was probably a just as well – he really needed a distraction.

Hermione announced her ideas in caution to both Ron and Harry. "Well firstly, I think we should work this out a little, I mean, the last thing we want is for people to see us sneaking around the castle. Maybe it would be better to get at night, that way there's only Filch to worry about,"

Ron and Harry nodded in harmony as Hermione continued. "We will of course be needing your invisibility cloak, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Tonight then, we'll stay down here late and finish some homework, and then as soon as its lights out and everyone is in bed, we'll go get it."

_~To Be Continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

**(Bound By) Clandestine Addiction**  
[Chapter Six]

Harry fought to withhold a smile as Ron swore loudly after bumping into the sofa, earning a warning stamp on his foot from Hermione. "_Stealth, Ronald_!" She hissed as they struggled out of Gryffindor Tower under the invisibility cloak. Harry stared down at the Marauder's Map in his hand, taking slow, careful footsteps so as not to reveal their feet from under the cloak to Mrs Norris who was doing her rounds of the Sixth Floor.

"Rotten cat," Ron whispered as they stepped onto the moving stairs that headed up to the seventh floor.

Harry scanned the map a final time, ascertaining that no one was in the area besides themselves and Mrs Norris, who had just so happened to walk up the same stairs just in front of them. "_Mischief Managed_," Harry muttered almost inaudibly to the map, wiping it before stowing it away in his pocket. Behind him, as they approached the Room of Requirement, Hermione clung to his left arm to stay with him and Ron stuck close to his side as his free arm held the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Soon they were at the space where the door would appear, but Filch's cat was still lingering.

"Go away you blasted thing!" Ron growled under his breath, fidgeting nervously under the cloak.

"Ron! _Shhhh_!" Hermione silenced him with an elbow to the ribs. They watched the cat warily as she stared at the space where they stood for a moment, before beginning to turn around the next corner. "And stop that fidgeting you're going to–"

CLANG!

The sword dropped from Ron's grasp, landing on the floor with a deafening crash that rang like a church bell in the silence. Ron swore. Hermione panicked and Harry watched as Mrs Norris came charging round the corner, hissing and spitting at them before she belted off to the Grand staircase.

"She's going for Filch!" Hermione gasped. Ron dived down; retrieving the sword and Harry threw the cloak off them as he began pacing. "Harry what are you doing?!"

"Shh!" Harry snapped, his eyes narrowed with concentration. How could he get into the room and guarantee he could find it?

His heart was racing; Hermione had snatched the map from him, wand aloft over it as a light as she watched the tiny Filch-labelled speck rapidly approach them. "Harry he's coming!"

_I want a place where everything's hidden_, he thought at last pacing back and forth in front of the opening. Nearby Ron hopped from one foot to the other, clinging to the sword as if his life depended on it – as if that would do them any good now.

"He's coming, Harry!"

At that moment, Harry stopped, staring up at the door, and for a moment, the wall stared blankly back at him, the way it had done when he had tried to catch Draco in there the year before. But then, the stone shifted and that large, ornate door appeared before them. Harry felt a breath he hadn't realised he was holding escape.

"Harry! He's on the stairs!" Hermione gasped. Harry nodded, throwing the door open and gesturing for her and Ron to go in, they didn't wait for a second invitation. Ron stumbled through, Hermione close behind and with a final glance down the corridor, Harry saw the shadow of a frantically limping Filch rounding the corner before he dashed inside, shutting the door carefully behind him.

Harry froze for a moment, his back flush against the closed doors protecting them from the deranged caretaker. He exhaled shakily, sliding down to the floor, where he remained for a moment, catching his breath. If they had been caught trying to get in here with the sword of Godric Gryffindor there was no way it would be kept secret. _And if word had gotten back to Voldemort, he'd have realised we were looking for his Horcruxes, _he realised, closing his eyes as he recovered from his panic. The reality of how close they'd come to failure was hitting him.

"We have to be more careful," Harry murmured to his friends, rubbing his eyes under his glasses tenderly.

Hermione glared down at Harry for a moment and offered a hand to help him back to his feet. As he straightened up, they both looked over at Ron, who stood bewildered at the room that had appeared before them. There were all kinds of objects cluttering the floor, mounds and mounds of shiny trinkets and artefacts that seemed to surpass all the other objects.

Ron bent down, reaching his hand out towards one of the gleaming cups. Hermione's fearful shout halted his movements.

"Don't touch anything Ron!" She warned, thankful that Ron stopped and backed away before he had reached it. She looked at Harry with a worried face, unable to understand why so _many _objects were in the place, where everything was hidden. Surely all of these items didn't necessitate such protection? Surely not _all of these_ could be product of people's sins?  
"We never know what kind of enchantments lay on these objects, we need to be careful," She reminded both Ron and Harry with caution as they stepped further into the maze of trinkets.

Harry frowned as he stared around at the piles upon piles of lost treasures, some evidently more valuable than others, but not what he was looking for. He scanned the chaos of it all, not knowing where to begin.

"Harry look!" Ron called him and Harry turned to see the red-head approaching him, a very familiar object clasped in his hands. _Advanced Potion Making_. Harry released the book as if it had burnt him, the memory of what it had made him do to Draco sending a warning flare in his gut. The book tumbled to the floor, falling open where it read, _Property of the Half-Blood Prince._

But then it hit him.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, "Where did you get this?"

Ron frowned, gesturing to the pile behind him, a few objects upturned where he had obviously moved them to get to the book. Harry flew over to it, diving through the pile. Of course! He had seen a battered tiara here before last year and paid it no mind. It was the object which he had used as a marker for where he had hidden the book!

Ignoring Hermione's squeals to not touch anything, to be careful he swatted the toppings aside, finally finding what he sought. He froze for a moment as he stared down at the diadem, remembering the incident with the past horcruxes and took off his school robe, wrapping it carefully inside.

Ron reached down, ignorant to Harry and Hermione who were clutching the desired object. The both of them fixated on it.  
"This is it, Harry, now lets get out of here," Hermione pleaded, trying not to step on anything as she strode forwards quickly towards the exit.

She froze, rigid in her pace as a siren sounded, piercing through the silence not only to them, but to most properly the entirety of Hogwarts. She and Harry looked back in unison to see Ron clutching a glistening, golden plate.

"Ron, you _idiot_, why did you think I told you not to touch anything?!" Hermione yelled, running over and knocking the plate from his grasp as she took that hand and ran with it. "You idiot!" She repeated, sprinting towards Harry who was waiting at the door for them.

"How was I to know that certain objects were protected?" Ron answered petulantly, avoiding his wrongdoing and the embarrassment that came with it.

"Here take this," Harry gasped, Hermione instantly realising he was suggesting they split with less chance of being caught out. Harry panted as he handed over the invisibility cloak. They were the ones with the Horcrux, the sword, so it was only safer they use the cloak, plus there were two of them and one of him.

_It would be me who ruins the plan wouldn't it? _Ron thought, a hand at his arm yanking him in the opposite direction to Harry.

Bolting in the opposite direction of his friends, Harry turned just in time to see them disappear beneath the cloak. _But they still need time to get clear of the Seventh floor or they might collide with anyone rushing to see what happened,_ Harry thought and glanced around himself frantically, spying a large, stone vase on a plinth beside him. He whipped out his wand, aiming it at the artefact.

"_Reducto_!" He gasped, and flew backwards at the force of the blast, shielding his face from the flying fragments. Voices were nearing. He had certainly pulled the heat of the attention to himself. Scrambling to his feet, Harry flew through the passageway down to the lower part of the castle. He would hide in the One-eyed witch passageway until the danger had passed.

Harry felt his lungs tear as his breath sliced through it with spiteful claws. The footsteps of Filch and _Merlin _knew who else were close behind. It wouldn't be so bad, being caught without the incriminating objects, as long as they were safe with Ron and Hermione in Gryffindor Tower that was all that mattered. He was sure they were safe now; all he had to do was get back to them without being caught…

Sprinting down through the endless maze of halls he had come to know so well, Harry felt his sides ache with the sensation of a cave-in and knew they were gaining on him. He stared about him, spying the nearby door to an empty classroom and threw himself into the suit of armour nearby. "_Colloportus_!" He whispered, his chest heaving, almost sick for breath. When the sound of a magical click reached his ears, signalling the door had been locked he shot on through a side-passage of winding stairs.

There came the sounds of infuriated voices behind him, but they did not follow and he knew his distraction had worked. They thought he had knocked over the armour in his haste to lock himself in the empty classroom. That would buy him enough time to hide, but not enough time to get to the One-eyed Witch passage. _And Filch knows about that now I am sure,_ he realised with a pang of horror.

Just then, a shadow cast across the opposite wall from the corner he was a approaching. The telltale whoosh of robes sounded and he flew backwards, throwing himself into the darkened archway behind the gargoyle statue. The figure was approaching and Harry clasped his hands over his mouth in a failed attempt to stifle his gasps for breath. The voices of his other pursuers had long died away, but the new footsteps were getting closer and closer…

Harry's eyes widened as the shadow stopped before him, and there was no doubt they could hear his gasps. Something was leaning closer; he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Every muscle in his body tensed.

"Harry?!" Draco gasped in alarm at bumping into the _Chosen One_, so surprised that Harry's first name had calmly rolled over his lips, as if he were talking to a friend or family member. "What are you doing?" He questioned in a more bitter tone, the likeness to his usual attitude returning instantly as he noticed the cowering, hiding stance that Harry was in.

Draco jumped as Harry swept him backwards with his forearm against the wall, so he was beside him and out of sight from any passers by. The darkness of the passageway consumed their figures as finally, the footsteps and commotion from all around died down. Harry finally let out a sigh of relief only to be put back on edge as he realised Draco Malfoy was still standing right beside him.

Draco's all-too rational mind lost control for once, shoving all thoughts of the bond and his Dark Mark as far aside as he could; this was his chance to…to say sorry for the wrong he had caused. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about what he had done to Harry in the bathroom the other day, the violence that had slapped the boy's kindness back into his face. And even though to an extent he needed Harry to keep his distance, it didn't mean that was what he, Draco wanted. Part of him didn't want to run away anymore…

With a stern look, Draco slammed his hand on the wall beside Harry's head, cornering him where he stood, Draco's arms boxing him in. It was moments like this that he was grateful he wasn't claustrophobic.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry hissed as Draco lifted a hand to grasp his chin in between his index finger and thumb tenderly.

"You," Draco admitted, finally leaning in and pressing his lips solidly against Harry's.

Harry groaned into the kiss, for a moment losing himself and opening his mouth willingly, his tongue beckoning Draco's into him. His hands reached up knotting in the boy's robes, the warmth pressing into him suddenly reminding him of his cloak back up in Hermione's grasp and how cold that left him in the castle at night. His eyes fluttered shut and he pushed back hard into the kiss before coming to his senses.

He mumbled in half-hearted negation against those lips, before shoving back hard, but one of Draco's arms remained pinned beside his head, trapping him. "I thought what you wanted was for me to stay away from you?" Harry stated as confidently as he could manage with his hazy mind fogged up with the feelings of Draco's lips pressing against him, and the sound of Draco _wanting _him…

"In any case," Harry pressed on, attempting to shake the dazed look from his face (and failing badly by the way Draco was smiling smugly at him). "Did you also forget that I wanted an apology to be the first thing out of your mouth?"

Draco remained silent. His darkened eyes were shadowed by flaxen locks. He stared into Harry unwaveringly, with a fusion of emotions Harry had never seen before and it made him shiver as he was pressed even more insistently between the stone, cold wall and Draco's warm body.

"Do you still feel nothing?" Harry asked, exhaling sharply, making their chests to touch, just barely. He swore he felt a static charge from where his heart thudded in his body, close to the scar across Draco's, the scar that connected them._ As much as I want this, he thought bitterly, any second now he'll shove me away or worse, and I can't keep playing that game… _Something in his chest hurt at the possibility of never having this intensity again. _Why do I have to want him so badly?_

Draco watched him closely, fumbling with his questions, none to which he felt the need to answer immediately.

Draco had never felt _'nothing'_. There was always _'something' _and he hated that Harry literally wanted him to say it outright. He wasn't going to belittle himself by admitting anything to Harry, even if it was true he didn't want to accept it and there was no way he was going to either. He had his slytherin pride to live up to, he wasn't about to be humiliated by someone as…_sick _as Harry.

He cringed at the sudden memory of the Harry and him at astronomy tower, forcing himself to recognize such an act as filthy and wrong, but his cringe was a fake, he didn't feel that at all, even if he forced himself to _think _it.

"Why do you _need _to keep asking me that when you _know _the answer?" Draco stressed, his hand gripping the wall with all his might as he answered Harry's question with another. He knew Harry could feel his pain, his hurt, his denial, _everything_. Draco drew back from the closeness, a prickled pain radiating over both Harry and himself at the same time, causing them both to flinch there heads in opposite directions at the pull.

Harry grimaced at the out-of-body confliction assaulting him, unconsciously reaching forwards and pulling Draco's warmth back to him. Bright lights like tiny explosions burst behind his eyes at the contact, but the pain abated into a rush of heat and he fell back against the wall, those arms forming a cage around him once more. One he had no intentions of escaping.

_I didn't go to him_, Harry thought, pondering his earlier promise to himself and his friends. _He came to me…_

"I know you feel something," Harry gasped out, a wince still shaking his features, "I just don't want you to lie and throw it back in my face again." He raised his eyes (suddenly shyly) to look up at Draco, somewhat bashful in front of this _version _of him; the one that kissed him instead of hit him.

He blinked slowly, as if testing that this was really him standing there, hovering over him the way Harry had imagined so many times before. Drawing in a slow, bated breath, he watched those stormy eyes linger over his lips, and felt something inside him flutter embarrassingly.

"If I take that kiss as an apology…" He began, seeing he had caught the blond's interest with the suggestion that an apology may not have to be _admitted _to. "Then…k-kiss me again." It sounded so stupid and _girly _when he said it aloud. His voice was a barely there whisper on the chilly air, but the arrogant smile that graced Draco's lips signalled that he had heard perfectly well and Harry's cheeks suffused with colour.

Draco grinned as he crashed his lips back into Harry's, a burning passion forcing them together tightly as he lifted Harry forwards from the stony yellow wall with both hands to hips, then smoothing them up and underneath his white school shirt with a thrill. His grin spread, watching the squirming _scar-head _below him wriggling in a way that was much more satisfying then the word _pleasure_ could explain.

****CENSORED. FOR THE FULL UNCENSORED VERSION PLEASE SEE LINKS ON MY PROFILE****

"Nice aim, Potter," Draco sneered, hesitantly wiping at the white streaks now staining his clothing.

"Sorry," Harry panted sheepishly as he drew out his wand, gesturing to the obvious mess decorating the Slytherin's robes. "_Tergeo_!" The evidence of their tryst evaporated, and Draco examined his clothing carefully, as if making sure the spell was capable of cleaning to his standards.

"Err…" Harry began, not really sure how to begin. He knew something about Draco felt different this time, still biting and hurtful but different…as if his heart were no longer in it. He also knew that he had allowed things to go too far, or perhaps they both had. Mutual gratification meant something more intimate than he was sure Draco had been willing to give, but that didn't mean that _he_, Harry didn't want that.

_Of course you want it, you idiot,_ the very _Draco_-sounding voice admonished.

"D-Draco?" He started carefully, "I err…want…want to see you again." The words seemed to blurt out with adolescent awkwardness once he finally seized them and Harry lowered his eyes to – _anywhere _besides that face, his words evidently far more embarrassing than rubbing his naked cock into Draco's.

Draco zipped up his fly, chuckling spitefully at Harry's words as he smoothed his blond locks back in place. He carefully avoided eye contact with him, ashamedly gazing around to check no one was watching them. Though he didn't seem concerned a few moments ago when he was spellbound by those hazy feelings…

"I didn't even want to see you this time, Potter," he snarled, watching Harry's broken expression while he continued to break him even more, "Besides, I'm not some queer little faggot like you, go get you're kicks somewhere else."

Harry felt the spiteful sensation of needles pricking the backs of his eyes, and shook his head slightly to wash away the broken feelings those words incited. _He's so different to how he was when he first saw me just now,_ he thought in bewilderment. _It's like he has a split-persona._

"You know, your mood-swings are worse than a pregnant woman's," Harry bit back, shivering slightly from the chill of the castle creeping through his flimsy sweat-soaked shirt. "You won't burst into flames if you're honest with me. In any case, I was just… Well Ron and Hermione were talking about the next Hogsmeade visit…it's on Valentine's Day…"

He stopped there, guessing where this was going before he had even finished talking. _Can't hurt to ask, who knows he might have another mood-swing and agree, _he mused. Donning his brave façade, Harry stepped an inch closer, unconsciously smoothing the flaxen locks that had rebelled during their encounter back down flat once more. Draco's eyes widened, startled by the compassionate touch.

"I was wondering if you…wanted to meet up, in Hogsmeade at some point. Like…just us…?" Harry could not fully quash the foolish hopefulness from his voice and he winced at the sound of it. _Pathetic, remember, Harry, _he thought bitterly, wishing he'd never opened his mouth. He already knew where this was going…

Draco's over-lustful eyes paled as Harry asked him something that caused him to cry out in a fit of laughter and slide back into his pushy arrogant self. He sniggered hysterically; his voiced echoed the passage way as his laughter evolved to anger instantaneously. Did Harry really just as him out on a _date_? Part of him cringed.

WHACK!

A simple punch and Harry's glasses crushed onto his face, the frames falling crooked as the glass from them dented into the skin around his eyes, narrowly missing them as the hard fist pounded into it. His nose cracked. A gushing stream of blood flooded out of his nostrils as Draco watched him raise his hands up to where he had just been struck. "That's your apology," he hissed.

Harry gasped and spluttered through the blood, ripping his glasses off his face and touching his eyes to discover there was no real damage done to them. He winced at the pain of a few shards cutting into his skin and snarled under his breath as he flew to his feet, wand in hand. He felt more than saw Draco jump backwards.

"I don't want to play these games with you anymore!" He sneered, "You're too scared to be honest with me, other than when you've got a boner! Well if that's all we're going to have then you can find someone else to wipe your hands on! _Diffindo_!" He spat the last of his words and with a flourish of his wand, a ripping sound tore through the air. In that instant, Draco felt something around him give way and across from him Harry's face remained contorted with agony, both emotional and physical, as the spell screamed at him split the seems to his clothes. The useless, unbound fabric shuddered to the ground.

Harry stood there, frozen for a moment as the moonlight streamed in through the windows, lighting the alabaster flesh exposed to him, unhindered by clothes. And above it all, the luminescent scar of _sectumsempra _shone brilliantly as if lined with diamonds.

Snapping from his daze, Harry marched towards the stairs that would lead him up to the Grand staircase, stopping to throw a look at Malfoy over his shoulder. "I'm sick of trying to read you and getting nowhere. If you can't say what you feel then don't come for me again, because I don't want you like this." he ascended a few stairs before calling back again. "Better hurry up and fix your pants, Malfoy or Filch might find you flashing that pureblood arse."

He stood humiliated and bare as the cold rushed over him, his features angered as Potter distantly faded away in departure. Draco rushed over to the golden-yellow and red tie that Harry had left without realizing it and glared down at it with _hate_. He snarled, his nose wrinkling in that way it knew so well. The corner of his lip cracked at his frustration of being humiliated by Harry of all people and he felt overpowered him with a rush of fury.

His eyes gazed at the tie as he took his hand to his cock and pulled it backwards slightly. A steamy yellow substance trickled out with a slight fog as he sighed deeply at the satisfaction urinating on Harry's tie brought him with every drop that fell, he wasn't about to be made a fool off.

"_Reparo_!" He chanted, his clothes fixing themselves to his body as he leant down and picked up the soiled tie carefully, avoiding where he had just stained it. He flew after Harry, his anger driven feet carrying him as fast as he could around the corners of Hogwarts until he finally caught at glimpse of the dark-haired haired Gryffindor who halted as Draco called out to him.

"Oi! Scar-head, you forgot this!" Draco shouted, fuming as he walked over to Harry and shoved the tie into his face, smothering the soiled material up Harry's nostrils as he laughed. No wonder he was put into the Slytherin house, there was indeed a part of him that felt very evil right now.

Draco glared at Harry's wrinkled face as something inside him snapped.

Harry sneered, humiliation and anger and most of all agony licking his insides like a match on a matchbox, setting the fuel of his other miseries alight. His body went up in flames. "I…I _HATE _YOU!" Harry screamed, loathing how much the words sounded like I cry.

Draco felt the backs of his eyes sting with guilt as he caught his angered breath and walked away. What had he just done?

Harry watched back of him as the Slytherin walked away, a mix of hate and love he wished would combust like his heart burning inside him. He clutched at his soiled tie, unable to force his fingers to let it go and with that he bolted blindly up the stairs, stumbling as he went.

His body wavered with every desperate step and the air around him felt uneasy whenever the stairs moved beneath his feet. All-but blind with blood racing down his face, he fumbled to find purchase, shaking a few times before catching himself on the final set of stairs. His foot twisted the opposite direction to him, and he screamed, falling flat on his face before the Fat Lady's Portrait. And there he remained.

A dry sob wretched from his throat, and he drew himself up slowly, running his bloodied fingers over his face. "Why do I have to love someone so horrible?" Harry whispered, tears gathering but unwilling to fall from his all-but blinded eyes. Snagging his fingers into the wall, he pulled his suddenly heavy body up, partly wishing he could just remain on the floor and wither away.

He stood there a moment as the Fat Lady's portrait swung open, and stared at the opening into the warm common room. He had to gather himself, push away the tears before he could face them.

"Harry! Harry!" Hermione's frantic voice reached him as he climbed through the portrait and something in him broke.

"Mate," Ron began, neither of them having noticed his plight. "We waited for you to get back to destroy it – did you get caught–"

"Why were you so long?"

Harry shook his head at their voices, throwing himself in the nearest chair and suddenly he felt them stop, evidently just seeing him properly – covered in blood and sweat and _worse…_

"Just…just give me a second," he breathed, staring with blind eyes blankly ahead, at nothing in particular. His friends looked at each other, anxiety crossing their features as they approached him.

Hermione walked over and propped herself in front of him, allowing him the silence he wanted as she concentrated on his injuries. "Your nose, Harry?" She stated, seeing his nose broken and out of place. It was worse than Harry had first noticed and she pulled out her wand with intend on fixing it. "This may hurt a bit, Harry," Hermione warned, watching his face tense in preparation, it wasn't the first time his nose had been broken by Malfoy and he certainly remembered the instant pain he felt when Luna fixed it last. Waving her wand in a single swish, his nose cracked back into place.

"Arghh!" Harry screeched, the mending click tearing though his face. Hermione had already bent down and was clutching Harry's foot, fixated on healing his twisted ankle he had gained tripping up the stairs.

"You were with Malfoy, _weren't _you?" Ron accused, causing both Harry and Hermione to look up at him. "Look at his neck, Hermione!" Ron instructed, clucking his tongue as he turned the other way. He couldn't bring himself to look at Harry; he didn't want him to see the disgust that had overcome him. He couldn't help it, he physically felt sick that Harry was not only being intimate with Malfoy, but was allowing him to attack – basically torture him at the same time.

Hermione looked back at over Harry, who was trying to cover his neck and failing. She could not help but notice the heated, red love-bites on his neck, the bruising decorating the flesh all the way down to his collarbone. They were unavoidable. "Harry–" Hermione started, but stopped again by the sadness spreading across his face.

"I s'pose you've already conjured up a way of covering those have you?" Ron asked, still in that bitter tone as he tried to calm himself.

"You could always use your scarf," Hermione added with a slight smile, trying to lighten the tension that was building in the room between Ron's bitterness and Harry s silence.

"Was he the one that injured you too?" Ron asked, disgusted at the state Harry was in.

Hermione shot Ron a stare as he continued. He didn't know where to stop, even if he had agreed with all of Harry's decisions, it didn't change the fact that here they were waiting in worry for Harry while he was off getting his dick stroked…

"You'd choose getting your dick stroked? You'd choose _Malfoy_ over destroying the horcruxes? That's a first and you're supposed to be the _Chosen One, _Harry! The one who's going to defeat Lord You Know Who!" Ron reminded coldly.

"Ron! Shut up! Can't you see–" Hermione started as he intervened.

"No Hermione, can't _you_ see? While we were here, waiting and worried out of our minds, he was off with Malfoy, snogging probably!"

Harry hid his blush at that statement.

"And what's wrong with that?" Hermione asked in defence, frustrated with Ron for being so shallow minded. She thought he was over that.

"_Nothing_, I just don't trust him. Malfoy could have stopped Harry as distraction. He could've been following instructions from the other Death Eaters! It would be easy for someone to come up here and retrieve the diadem from us with Harry out of the way, even with the castle's protective charms! Anything could have happened." Both Harry and Hermione remained silent. Part of Hermione agreed with him, even though he was over exaggerating a little bit…

"He's risking _all_ of our lives mixing with Malfoy!" Ron yelled, his voice deepening with anger.

"When we asked to help Harry, _Ronald_, we agreed we would risk our lives, _didn't we_?" She snapped, holding back her frustrated tears. This was the first time she really, _really _wanted to hit him. He was being an insensitive prick and because she knew the pain Harry was in, she could only begin to imagine how much worse Ron's spitefulness was making him feel.

"Risking your life and throwing it away are two completely different things, Hermione!"

"My life is mine to throw away as I choose!" Harry screamed, leaping to his feet as his silent awkwardness dissipated under the swelling fury inside of him. "You two were never in any danger, not with the teachers patrolling the corridors looking for me and not with my cloak. And as for my life, well that's _mine_. I'm sick of people telling me I have to live it just to defeat Voldemort! Do you think I _like_ that hanging over my head? Do you think I want to be strong and infallible all the time! NO! Sometimes I want to cry! Sometimes I want to be weak and _yes_, Ron, sometimes I want to get my _dick _stroked!" A loud CRASH sounded as he swatted the table over in front of them, scattering his friends.

The diadem rolled out from the safety of his cloak, gleaming, ominous and deadly in the dim glow of the firelight. Like it had cast a spell over him with its sudden presence, Harry froze in his rage. He approached it slowly, eyes never leaving it, as if it were a snake resisting its charmer. If he destroyed it, he would feel different, he would feel _better _he was sure. His hand smoothed over the couch, his fingers snagging hold of the sword of Godric Gryffindor as he approached the locket. Magic hung like a heavy veil around it, prickling his skin as he neared and as he stood above it, the sword poised to strike it let out an awful screech.

_~To Be Continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note:  
For the record, we don't condone rape of non- or dubious consent, this is merely a work of fiction. And ripping a condom packet open with your teeth (whilst sexy) is not recommended as you can rip the condom even without knowing and render it useless - some advice there! lol XD

* * *

**(Bound By) Clandestine Addiction**  
[Chapter Seven]

* * *

Ron Weasley fidgeted in his bed, he half turned to glance over at Harry who was still awake, staring down at the Marauder's Map as if under some kind of addiction. He wasn't blinking at _all_ and Ron knew the name he was staring at. Rolling back over, the red-head gave a frustrated sigh. His overtaxed mind was blinded by the flashes of how their argument had come to close earlier…

_A sudden moment of relief overcame the room, Harry had destroyed the horcrux and silence had fallen between them. Their heated conversation and Harry's sudden outburst had taken them all by storm. The three of them looked at one and other before departing in different directions to separate parts of the Gryffindor tower._

Ron blinked back at the lack of closure, the things that needed to be said. He hated leaving an argument open, bad feelings left up in the air. It bothered him. He leant up and looked over at Harry, who was doing all in his power to ignore Ron as he spoke.

"Harry, about earlier," he began. "I didn't mean to say some of the things I said."

Harry tore his eyes away from the Marauder's Map slowly, as to postpone the moment when he would have to look his best friend in the eye. He didn't want to fight with Ron, not now, but he couldn't deny how the words had hurt him. "Don't worry about it," Harry assured him quietly, "I get that this is all…a little…hard to digest." His fingers wandered up to the obvious, violent bruising across one side of his throat, almost lovingly.

It was hard to process everything with the memory of the Diadem's destruction still ringing in his ears.

_Hermione and Ron flew back at the sudden scream that ripped through the diadem. Harry could vaguely make out Hermione murmuring a silencing charm, so as not to alert anyone beyond the room of the noise. At the same time, a blinding, fiery light erupted from the tiara, and Harry stared down at it, mesmerised, unable to look away…_

Pathetic, you're pathetic, Potter!

_The voice screeched inside his head, with all the spitefulness Draco Malfoy had spat at him. And he felt his body tremble with it, but it wasn't the real Draco. It would hurt more if it were him. The magic surrounding him crackled furiously._

You're a fool, Harry Potter! And you will lose EVERYTHING!

_Harry smiled bitterly at the sound of Voldemort's curse in his ears. I have very little left to lose, he thought, before bringing the sword down. It stopped, an inch above, as if a force from the diadem itself were holding the end and attempting to shove it backwards._

Sweat dripped from his brow and he threw himself forwards onto his now aching arms, swearing he felt the muscles beginning to tear and give way. Indecipherable screams of every insult he had ever heard mingled together inside his head, all from the horcrux. The noise, it was so much that he was sure his skull was about to split open.

Suddenly, he caught movement from the corner of his eye, and then Ron and Hermione were beside him, hands joining his on the hilt of the sword. Adding their strength to his own as always, a final, retching scream sounded from the tiara before the trio forced the blade down, slicing the horcrux in two. It crumbled, the whisper of Voldemort's soul fading with the dying light and Harry gasped for breath as if he had been saved from drowning.

His fury had diminished after that, after his friends had helped him, yet again. He could not maintain his anger in the face of their selflessness. _They love me_, the present Harry thought as he stared at his red-haired friend, _it's only natural they disagree with something that hurts me…_

"And it's fair play to say I'm losing my mind, even I think that some times," he paused, lowering his eyes to the map once more, finding it impossible to look at Ron when he continued with, "He does the most, evil, vile, _cruel_ things, Ron…"

Ron blinked at Harry's honesty in description of Malfoy. He hadn't done anything helpful for him lately, the least he could do was offer to listen to his best friend's heartache, even if he wasn't sure he wanted to hear or _know _the details. "I was just worried, Mate, that's all. You've already lost so much, I don't want you to have to lose anymore, but if you, you know…want to talk?" Ron suggested. Harry smiled at his kindness at last.

"I won't scar you with the details," Harry began with a smile, "But I…I'm…" He shook his head, unable to force past the sheer truth. "I'm really lost…" The last few words were a shuddering gasp and he swore, out of the corner of his eye he saw Ron stiffen on the edge of the bed, as if deciding whether to come to him or not. He remained there awkwardly, poised for movement.

"We're connected, like I said but… It's more than that – _for me_. I get close to him and he tells me to stay away but…when I do he comes looking for me. It's like…like he's two different people! And one of them _hates _me…" He drew off, having elaborated on some of the details beforehand, like the sexual rendezvous and ensuing violence, and did not want to embarrass both himself and Ron again by repeating himself.

"I'm not really sure this is ever going to end. We keep going around in the same circles."

Ron felt his insides tighten at Harry's doting. He had never seen Harry act like this; there were those moments where he seemed distant over Ginny and Cho, but nothing quite this intense. "Maybe he didn't _intend _to come looking for you earlier, well I mean… All the students were walking around, it was probably just a coincidence," Ron suggested. He finally slid from the edge of his bed to his feet.

"No," Harry shook his head, "He didn't intend to find me but he… He _kissed _me and it was…different from before. It was like he wanted me…" He looked up at Ron again, his eyes glistening with an emotion he'd prefer not to show his best friend. "Ron it's never felt like that before and I wanted it so badly but…when – when I tried to ask for more it was like he became this other person – the _Death Eater_."

A low, exhausted sigh tugged from Harry's lips as they upturned in a sad smile. He couldn't believe how pathetic he had been. Putting the map and the destroyed horcrux away carefully, Harry threw himself back on his bed with no intention of sleeping. "I actually _asked _him to go to Hogsmeade with me."

Ron made a choking sound in his throat. "What?" He gasped. "As in…like…a _date_?"

Harry laughed quietly at himself. "Yeah, mental, right?" He didn't even have to look at Ron to know his eyes were wide with shock.

"Mental," Ron agreed, but then, as if realising what a predicament that left his friend in, continued. "But look, don't let that arse ruin your only escape from this place," he suggested, turning over as he rested his head down on his pillow. "Come out with me and Hermione, it drove him mad when you were having a good time in spite of him didn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry murmured, staring up at the dark ceiling above. _And despite not wanting to go around in circles, I _want _to drive him mad,_ he thought, _I want him to come back to me, so I can give in again…_

By the time the weekend of February 14th drew around, the snow had finally thawed and lush, green grass was reaching up for the misty, sunless sky. The students had been permitted their annual Hogsmeade outing but security around the village was strict, aurors placed at every corner; there was no way Death Eaters were getting through. Though right now, Harry wasn't worried about Death Eaters, he was worried about his two best friends, sitting hand-in-hand opposite him in Honeydukes, breathing sickly sweet things in each other's ears. He shifted uncomfortably. It did not feel good suddenly, being the third wheel.

His mind wandered to the possibility that if he had someone it may have been made easier. But somehow, the thought of the one person he would have truly wished to accompany him sitting there, holding his hand, breathing in his ear with his friends _watching_… It seemed all too impossible. _This is a day for lovers and girlfriends and boyfriends, _Harry mused, sipping his hot chocolate awkwardly. _Draco made it perfectly clear that I'm not worthy of being either of those for him…_

Suddenly, Hermione and Ron's attention diverted to him, and he sat up a little straighter at their voices.

Ron suddenly felt awkward, as did Hermione who had noticed Harry shifting uncomfortably before them. "Shall we move on?" Hermione asked, trying to break the awkward tension. "Yeah," Ron answered dimly as they moved towards the exit. _Poor Harry_, Hermione thought, giving his distant expression a quick glance as the paced through the door out into the street.

"Look, let's go into Zonko's Joke Shop next," Ron pointed, rushing over to the store before Harry and Hermione could argue.

"Looks like that's where were going next," Hermione said, her bag full of sweets rustling in her hands as she leaped to catch up with Ron. Harry trailed over at his own pace.

As they entered the shop, their gazes were caught by of all the interesting potions and jokes that the shop had on offer. Ron picked up a little pink bottle from the stand near the front of the shop, looking at it with amusement before handing it to Harry. "You could always use a love potion," Ron laughed, and Harry blushed, setting the bottle down hastily, his face now filling angrily with embarrassment.

Hermione giggled. "Oh Harry, it was a bit funny."

"Here, want a _free_ manual on making wizard love?" Fred and George chimed harmoniously swinging of the railings of the stairs above. Hermione blushed as she took the magazine, noticing the cover had a picture that she wished she had never seen, she quickly handed it to Ron.

"What are you two doing here?" She questioned them, with no little amount of suspicion. The twins grinned.

"Merely checking up on our latest purchase," Fred answered.

"Zonko's is now a branch of the Weasley Wizard Wheezes – suppose we should thank You Know Who for some things, eh?" George continued.

"You're _pleased_ he's putting people out of business?"

"And putting us _in _business!" The twins corrected at once, almost affronted. Hermione looked as if she might say something else, but then Ron's terrified voice broke their conversation.

"What is Snape wearing?!" Ron gasped, noticing his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, sprawling the cover in nothing but a thong.

"Don't you just love magic?" Fred added, laughing as he and George disappeared to the back of the shop. Ron giggled at the picture rolling the magazine up so it was easier to carry.

"You're not going to keep that are you?" Hermione asked. Ron shrugged.

"Never know when it might come in handy," he retorted.

"Handy for what?!" Hermione asked, slightly fuming that her boyfriend wanted to keep such a magazine that made fun of people.

"Bribery material, of course," Ron explained, looking over at Harry unconsciously as he spoke, noticing he was fiddling idly with a comical Umbridge imitation. "Maybe it's more your thing," he laughed handing Harry the magazine.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry grumbled, placing the miniature Umbridge back on the shelf only to clutch the rolled up magazine in his hand instead.

"Come on," Hermione sighed dragging Ron out of the shop finally by his collar, the smell of chocolate filling the street as they stepped back outside. As they left the shop, Ron handed Harry a little striped bag with the Zonko's logo on it.

"What's this? Harry asked, curious as he didn't remember seeing Ron purchase anything.

"Open it, Harry," he laughed, watching as his best friend revealed that little pink bottle they had all been gawking over in the shop. Harry didn't look amused. _Ron never did know when to stop. _

"Harry give me that!" Hermione commanded, removing the magazine from his hand with a force to whack Ronald over the head with it.

"What did you do that for?" Ron cried, rubbing his head where Hermione had just struck him.

"That's for taking a joke too far, Ronald," She glared, watching as Harry readied himself for departure.

"I'm going to go for a walk, guys, give you some… Some time alone," Harry said waving as he walked in the opposite direction.

"Now you've done it, Ron," Hermione moaned, hitting him over the head once more as Harry merged into the crowd.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, his breath misting up in the air before him. He adored his friends even more so for trying to cheer him up and not allowing him to stew in the common room while everyone else was out enjoying their chance at freedom. But he couldn't bear another moment of their needlessly sneaky hand-holding and smooching. He shook the image from his head as he trudged along the lane, weaving through his fellow students in the opposite direction to the crowd.

It was the first time it had been deemed safe since for them all to venture outside of Hogwarts, and his classmates were rife with excitement. His own mood however, could not cope with it much more, and he sought the winding path up away from the town, to the one place he was sure a gaggle of excitable teenagers would avoid…

The Shrieking Shack stood just a little way from him, towering above him in all his nightmarish memories. It did not seem anywhere near as terrifying as it had the night he had first met Sirius, (his heart twisted at the thought of him) quite the contrary, the familiarity, the silence eased him.

An eerie, otherworldly peace swept through him as he approached the door, running his fingers over the hideously ornate doorknocker, which looked suspiciously like an impression of a troll's head. Wondering if it was ever locked, (given that almost everyone except for he and his friends were terrified of the place) Harry pressed the length of his hand against the knocker and shoved it forwards. The door crept open with a creak and he shuddered at the icy-coolness of the forged metal. That was…he_ thought _it was because of the metal…

A familiar prickle that he could not misplace _anywhere _slithered like a serpent over his skin, and he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the clean air in an attempt to compose himself. A figure lingered behind him. His arm fell limply to his side, clenching into a fist.

"Did you follow me down here?" Harry asked without turning to face the figure shadowing him. He sighed when he received no answer; evidently it was another question to which Draco found it impossible to answer. "What do you _want_, Malfoy?" He tried this time, making no effort to disguise his exhaustion, his misery.

The blond walked over to Harry (whose back was facing him) and placed his arms over his shoulders, almost lovingly, curling them round into an embrace as Harry stood unmoved beneath him. "You asked me to come here, didn't you?" Malfoy reminded, referring back to the sweet gesture Harry had put forward in asking him out on a 'date'. "And I…" Draco sighed, unable to finish his sentence.

Part of him wanted so desperately to apologise, but another part wanted him to walk away. He felt in such a predicament. And he couldn't help but hate what and who he had become. With everything resting on his shoulders, he wasn't sure how much more he could take. He knew he had to stop giving into temptation like this, because he was a Death Eater, whether he liked it or not and he had ties to the Dark Lord. All the feelings inside him were overwhelming, overcoming him as he became more and more secretly infatuated with the Chosen One, with Harry.

Harry had seen everything. Him at his very lowest, cutting the shame from himself in the bathroom that day, and he hated it. He glanced at his still bandaged arm as he clung to Harry, electricity surging in his veins as his thoughts continued to process.

In a strange sense he was relieved, that Harry was there to witness that self-afflicting action, because somewhere inside he knew Harry would finally know he didn't want to be doing this and that when the time he had to bring Harry to Voldemort came, he would know he wouldn't be doing it willingly. That thought brought him the slightest comfort as Harry stood frozen in his arms.

He quickly shook away all images of the deeds he had promised the Dark Lord he would complete. With this connection, the last thing he wanted was for Harry to discover them…

"I asked you," Harry agreed, "But I seem to remember my request being answered with laughter, humiliation and you pissing on me." His tone was relatively calm, but again, that match-like strike of Draco's voice had lit a spark in his chest, one that was beginning to build into an inferno. Another sigh escaped him. He was angry at this sudden mood-swing and the way that the blond seemed to think warm embraces were enough of an apology for the vile things he had done to him recently.

Mostly, he was angry that the warmth from those arms did feel like enough and that he was melting into it like the snow had melted into spring.

_I can either have him like this or not at all_, Harry realised, resting his head back against that shoulder so that he felt the blond's hot breath against his cheek. _Isn't that what love is supposed to be? Unconditional?_

"If you want me, why do you do such vile things?"  
Draco sighed, pushing Harry's head backwards further against his shoulder with his fingers as he trailed tickles along it.

"It's _because _of that, that I do such vulgar things," He whispered, tender breath sweeping down the depths of Harry's earlobe as he nibbled it.

Harry shuddered, turning his head to the side and exposing his ear, his neck, _everything _to Draco's attentions. His eyes flickered closed and his fingers reached up, grasping at the arms wrapped around his shoulders. Why couldn't it stay like this? Why did he have to revert back to _'the bastard' _again afterwards? It was all an act, this he knew, but who for? Voldemort? Lucius? _Most likely Draco himself, _his mind suggested.

Suddenly, Draco's tongue dived into his ear, the sound of the blond's breath, laboured with passion making Harry hiss with pleasure. "Tell me that you want me," Harry panted, unwittingly pressing his arse back into Draco's body. "_Please_…"

He couldn't say it, Draco knew as soon as he said it, that would be it, there would be no escaping it anymore. How could he admit something to Harry, that he didn't even want to admit to himself? Not to mention that he knew that he couldn't keep doing this. He _knew _he shouldn't, but then there was that surge, like Harry, that needed him to.

"Shut up," Draco purred gently, grinning slightly he pinned Harry's back tight to his chest, forcing the slightly smaller body forwards against the shrieking wood of the shack.

****CENSORED. FOR THE FULL CHAPTER WITH LOVE SCENES PLEASE SEE THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE****

Harry cracked open his eyes, fighting to see for the glaze covering his vision in a film of what was _definitely _not leftover tears. _Of course not_, he thought sceptically, as he sat up shakily, realising that Draco wasn't looking at him, but staring shamefaced at the wall opposite. Frowning, Harry sat up a little straighter in an attempt to draw his attention back again, only to let out a low, pained gasp as his backside rested on the unforgiving wood. That snapped Draco's attention back to him, and their eyes met awkwardly for a moment, before Harry diverted his gaze. He felt strangely shy for someone who had just had all of his most personal (previously virgin) areas violated by the boy before him.

"Will you kiss me or is that not in the rules?" Harry asked through his haze, his tone slightly bitter. Draco seemed to consider his words for a moment, but said nothing and so Harry leant over, brushing his lips over Draco's in a sweet, barely there gesture that the blond seemed unable to make out. With that Harry watched him awkwardly a moment, before curling hesitantly at Draco's side, he knew instantly he had done something wrong, (not that he was in a position what was or was not acceptable before, during or _after _sex) for the blond stiffened at the contact.

Draco grabbed the invisibly cloak from the floor where Harry had dropped it and covered both himself and Harry under it as he sat back down next to the dark haired boy. He (to Harry's surprise) reached his hand round under the protection of the invisibility cloak and pulled Harry close. "You can be really _stupid _sometimes, Harry," he said, leaning in for a few short moments before hearing an exposition from below.

Harry's head snapped up from Draco's shoulder and he froze for a moment, listening warily to the noise from below. Someone – no more than one, for there were voices too, harsh and whispering… Whatever, whoever they were, they were being too cautious. "They're looking for something," he whispered to Draco, he looked up as he felt the blond shake his head ever so slow, and instantly read the meaning from those suddenly wide eyes.

_They're looking for us!_

Suddenly, he remembered the aurors at every gate that he'd had to sneak past – he'd _known _they were there to protect the students from Voldemort, from _Death Eaters_ but had come here anyway and Draco had followed. Nothing that lurked below, exploring one of the most haunted buildings in Britain, was good. It was not Voldemort, he would have sensed it if it were, but that did not mean they wanted to be caught!

Harry snatched up his cloak and yanked Draco roughly back into the furthest corner from the door, slamming his back into it painfully in his haste. Draco landed, naked between his legs, cursing him for his roughness. "Sssh!" Harry hissed, throwing the cloak over them. The footsteps were on the stairs now. Harry's heart was hammering and he felt Draco panic, not only through the bond but from the breathlessness wracking the body before him. His arms wrapped tightly around Draco's chest, pulling him flush back to his body, Draco froze instantly, but not from the calm Harry wished to instil, he was sure.

"Something must have happened outside," he whispered, the footsteps deadly near – on the landing now. "Death Eaters must have breached the protection at Hogsmea–" He was cut off as Draco's hand flew back to cover his mouth, just as the bedroom door (which had stood ajar) creaked open.

A masked, cloaked figure they both knew the significance of stepped over the threshold, three more Death Eaters following close behind. _But how did they know someone was in here? _Harry wondered. Then it hit him. _The door! They'd left it open!_ Harry shut his eyes tight, pressing his nose into the nape of Draco's neck unwittingly and breathing in softly to calm himself. He only prayed they did not see their clothes sprawled about behind the couch in the lounge…

Draco's heart dropped as the room filled with Death Eaters, the black swathed figures standing before their very eyes, he had never felt so terrified, even in the presence of Lord Voldemort. Maybe because this time Harry was with him, and if they were revealed, he would most probably killed along side him.

_Trying to protect him…_

_You could always hand him in, I'm sure the Dark Lord would reward you greatly for taking Potter to him so quickly,_ Draco's mind suggested, supplying him with options. But they were not options.

_No,_ Draco argued, the voices in his head stinging at his conflicted mind. For a brief moment, he considered handing Harry in, and glanced behind him at the dark-haired boy whose arms were clinging to him tightly, face pressed into his bare shoulder. Those menacing figures stood all around him, looking blindly at them before turning back to other corners of the room. With that Draco sighed, reminded of just how deadly this task was and what he was getting himself into in relating himself to Potter. But it was too late now and even though he had done some cowardly things in his lifetime, he just couldn't bring himself to sell out Harry. He didn't want to.

_You _do _Draco, You want to hand him in. You want it to be over._

_Shut up! _Draco thought, as that voice continued to string him like a puppet.

_You're not really going to keep doing_ that _are you? Fucking another man? Disgusting! And_ Harry Potter_ no less_, his mind sneered once more, finally forcing a mental scream directed at himself as the footsteps moved closer.

"Come quick!" Someone said, muffled from below. Harry's heart leapt and he winced against Draco's hand. _The clothes?!_

The blond's hand rested closely against Harry's mouth, still covering him as he heard a Death Eater from below calling. Draco's heart raced too, hoping their clothes hadn't been discovered. He silently signalled Harry to silence by using his index finger against his lips. Harry obeyed as Draco brought his hand away.

"What is it?" A deep menacing voice growled, and the speaking Death Eater and his companions walked back towards the top of the stairs, beginning to climb back down them.

"I think I heard something outside," The dark figured suggested, stumbling as the others shoved passed him.

"Come on, let's get out of here – it stinks of death–"

"Afraid of a few ghosts, eh?" One of them taunted, their voices quickly moving on. And with that they exited the shack.

Draco and Harry sighed in relief at that statement. Incredibly, no one had even taken notice of the odd scattered clothes lying about, they must have assumed they had been here a while or not assumed at all.

After waiting a few moments, Harry watched Draco get to his feet and peer round the doorframe before beckoning Harry onwards. They leapt down the stairs, rushing into the dilapidated living room and rushing into their clothes. Harry swore his heart was still thudding wildly in his breathless chest as they approached the door; the Death Eaters were still outside…

"Here," Harry murmured, moving to span the space between himself and Draco, before pulling the invisibility cloak over their heads. "We'll have to go slow," he whispered, his hand locking around Draco's wrist as he stepped slowly out of the Shrieking Shack. The three, masked figures remained a few feet away and did not so much as turn as they moved, quietly, carefully along the path back up to the village. "We have to get back to the village, where the Aurors are, maybe they can–" But his words cut off as something caught Draco's foot, sending him sprawling backwards, out of the protection of the cloak.

The Death Eaters flew towards the boy on the floor and Harry watched it happen, as if in slow motion. Draco tipped his head up to where he stood (still invisible). "Get _away _you idiot!" The Slytherin hissed and Harry took two hesitant steps backward, but did not turn and did not run away.

Draco shifted before him, but as he stood, the figure to the right shrieked. "Stay where you are, Boy!" The deep, unrecognisable voice crowed. "_Stupefy_!"

Harry's eyes widened and Draco's body hurtled backwards onto the dirt-track of a path. They were still coming and Harry felt terror twist his insides at the sight of Draco's expression, knocked unconscious.

"_Impedimenta_!" Harry cried out from beneath his invisible barrier and the two outer figures slowed in their advance, but the centre Death Eater kept on coming, having dodged it somehow. It was then, that Harry threw off his cloak. His wand shot down to the unconscious boy at his feet. "_Ennervate_!" He gasped and without looking down at the reviving Slytherin, turned his wand on the advancing figure.

"Stay where you are!" He called, his arm shaking with the adrenaline. But his opponent did not halt. "I said stay there–"

"_Crucio_!"

"_Expulso_!"

Harry's eyes flashed with the light of two wands, neither his own. He swore he _saw _the menacing, spiteful light flying from the Death Eater's wand, but before he could counter, or prepare himself for the agony of the spell, an arm slammed into his chest. The blow threw him backwards a few steps as Draco's revived body rose between him and the curse. The blond's own spell hurtled towards their attacker, crashing into the ground at the man's feet. The exploding debris sent him flying backwards just as Draco's body stiffened and convulsed with the fleeting, unforgivable agony of the torture curse the Death Eater had meant for Harry.

Harry's arms flew around him, catching his body before it hit the floor. "Draco? Draco are you alright?" The said boy winced at the desperation in Harry's voice, offering the shorter boy a horrified look through his grimace and Harry knew what that expression had meant. Draco was one of them, at least in name. Most likely he would have suffered, but not been killed once they realised who he was; there had been no need for Harry to save him – yet he had.

The foremost Death Eater struggled to his feet, his shattered mask falling free of his face as he rose from the splintered rocks and wreckage. Harry's heart caught in his chest as he stood frozen in his protective position before Draco, wand trained on the three Death Eaters. The now unmasked one, _Lucius Malfoy _stared between the two teenagers in horror.

Harry looked back to Draco as they both backed up, neither sure how the remaining Death Eater would react. Harry knew he couldn't hurt Draco's father, not even if the man gave him reason to. His wand arm snapped back to the elder Malfoy and his body stiffened. "_Expelliarmus_!" Harry shouted, kicking Lucius Malfoy's wand away when it flew towards him. With that, he and Draco bolted up the path, Harry snatching up his fallen cloak as he went. But as he looked back over his shoulder, he swore he saw Lucius Malfoy retrieve his wand with calm compose, and simply watch their flight. It was as if he had no intention of following after them…

And he did not.

Chaos seemed to have descended like a blanket of darkness over the once cheery little village. The clouds billowed, black without sunlight, the eerie shape of the Dark Mark hanging above like a beacon for madness. Harry skidded to a halt, nearly knocked flying by the screaming students being herded by aurors in a haphazard mass back up to the castle. Harry's body swayed under the panic and he felt the heat of Draco's body close at his side, his anchor in the nightmare. It was just like that night at the Quidditch World cup. Fire and pain and fear hung in the air in thick smog, and it choked him.

"Did you know this was going to happen?" Harry whispered, his voice almost lost, but Draco looked at him and shook his head slowly. Harry stared into his eyes for a long, thoughtful moment. He was telling the truth. _And he chose me_, he realised. _He is a Death Eater; if he was really with them he could have let his Father have me. I'm sure that would've done more than redeem their family in Voldemort's eyes. But he stayed with me… _

That one notion weighed more than any other mercy he had been offered, and his fingers slid down from their place on Draco's wrist, slowly interlocking with the blond's unmoving, slender digits. Harry's eyes trailed up the boy's body to those eyes again and waited to see if the action would he refused.

"Hurry up there, boys!" Came a gruff, demanding voice of a nearby auror hurrying them on, giving them a shove into the mass of panicked students. Harry nodded his understanding distantly to the man, unable to tear his hopeful gaze from Draco, who had yet still to brush him off.

"BOYS! _Get_ moving!"

Draco's fingers felt so soft against his own. That was all he could think about, even as the Auror pushed him roughly again, jerking the blond along with him through their connected hands. Harry's inner euphoria, so bright despite the darkness above froze as Draco's features knotted with fury, but Harry was startled to see that irritation spin and turn on the man all but shoving them into the oncoming crowds.

"We're moving, you cretin!" The blond spat, he and Harry mingling with their panicked classmates in the rush back to the castle, the safety of it's grounds.

Harry crashed roughly into all the other students as they filled the main courtyard of Hogwarts with alarm, teachers standing nearby to calm them while some bolted for their dormitories.

"Everybody calm down!" McGonagall preached, trying to slow them in their pace. But not many listened. Draco was still next to Harry as they rushed through the courtyard into the entrance hall, the crowds crashing into their bodies without care or apology. Despite the warmth, the protective veil of impenetrable magic that Hogwarts was now protecting them with, their terror didn't seem to abate. Harry's heart was pounding still, but not from the thought of Death Eaters launching an attack on Hogsmeade. Even with all the chaos, he couldn't help but stare over at Malfoy - starry eyed.

Draco huffed, His father had seen him with Harry and he would have guessed there was something between them for Harry to want to risk his life to save him so readily. His father wasn't stupid. _That's it. _Draco's dilemma came to a crashing halt as he finally decided on an end for his conflict. His heart dropped, he didn't want this.

Dragged along by the tide of the crowds, Harry winced, as someone slammed into him head on, sending him tumbling back into Draco's chest. Hearing Draco's muttering curses, Harry raised his eyes to the red-head who was grunting acidly under his breath.

"Mind where you're walking," Ron grumbled to the Slytherin, his face set with a sneer as he surveyed the Slytherin until he saw Harry – with Malfoy. His eyes shot wide open and he came to a halt in his mutterings and his steps, alongside Hermione who was regarding the three of them with (a well-reasoned) distrust, as if they might leap in to attack one-another at any minute.

Harry also stopped, pulling Draco back by his arm when he seemed content with carrying on. They all stood gazing at one another in an uneasy silence, until the corridors emptied of chaos, leaving them quite alone. A few minutes of further stillness filled the air and the tension rose until Harry was sure he was near _choking _on it. Death Eaters all over Hogsmeade and Harry was strangely running along side Malfoy? It was too much to be a coincidence. There had to be _something _going on here. Malfoy was lying. Ron was sure of it.

"I bet the Death Eaters were something to do with _him_," Ron implied with a slight spit, glaring over at Malfoy in disgust. But the blond was not taking the least bit of interest in him and his irritation only increased at that casual ignorance.

"Leave it out, Ron," Harry protested, watching his best friend stand with spite alongside Hermione who was also quite shocked at everything that was happening, and a little terrified.

"Ron's right, Harry – at least consider the facts," she added carefully, "How much of a coincidence is it that you're with Malfoy while all this was happening?" She worried, trying to avoid eye contact with the Blond, who appeared to be standing awkwardly a few more inches away then Harry was all of a sudden.

"I said leave it out! Harry snapped more forcefully this time, watching Hermione recoil a touch.

She hated when Harry shouted. But she did not shudder away completely in face of his brewing anger – Ron was right, how could they trust someone like Malfoy? Hermione knew feelings could overrun you, control you, make you do things you wouldn't normally do – make you incoherent to all else. She knew because she had felt that, that sense of self-destructiveness with Ron at several points, even more so now they were actually a couple. But it was knowing that which petrified her.

Harry may do _anything _for Malfoy with those feelings, allow him to needlessly take away her best friend's life with no regard for those around him whatsoever. And there wouldn't be anything she could do about it, because of those devastating feelings. She sighed as Ron continued to argue, perhaps embarrassing Harry more than actually helping.

Draco stood bemused as they argued amongst each other. He sighed at just how petty they were, though it was odd and rather _nice _to see Harry being so protective of him… He quickly erased _that _thought. Malfoy gave Ron a look that showed nothing but disgust and superiority. As if the red-head were some kind of _thing _that didn't deserve to breath, didn't deserve to even _be _in his presence.

"Dunno who you're looking down you're nose at, Malfoy," Ron spat as Harry shot him off with an angered glare to warn him away once more. The blond tugged Harry's sleeve as he spoke lowly in that dull, set tone.

"A word?" Harry slipped aside with that tug, with Draco who whispered, with little discretion in his ear. "You need to stay away from me…" His voice trailed off and Ron and Hermione witnessed Harry's face fall with those words. Draco huffed as he saw them looking at him, shoving Harry off as he stood bewildered and scared before him. The blond couldn't bear to look at him, or his friends.

Draco knew now, that this connection _was _real and that there was something inside him that wanted Harry, in ways he'd forced himself not to think of, until today, when they were too powerful to be avoided. Valentines Day was a mark in history for him; it carried events that had made him realize that he had duties and the seriousness of them.

He needed to concentrate more on how he was going to work himself out of this! And the further and further he involved himself with Harry, the more and more harm he was bound to cause him. For that reason and that reason alone, he knew that he had to keep Harry away. He felt something inside him (something he didn't know _existed _until it exploded with blinding pain) break as he shoved Harry back further. He could tell without even looking at him that something inside him too was ready to crack. He could feel it in his veins.

Draco's throat swelled, it cracked as he felt water build in the back of his eyes. Shoving Harry backwards for a third time, he strode ahead, the breeze incited by his fast pace stinging the tears clinging to his lids. He couldn't let them see him _cry._

~To Be Continued...


	8. Chapter 8

**(Bound By) Clandestine Addiction**  
[Chapter Eight]

There was a distinct uneasy feeling across the hall the next morning as the students sat at their breakfast tables, their morning meals untouched while they stared at the teacher's table, expectant and silent. Harry was among the last of those to straggle into the hall, having not exactly felt overexcited to get up after yesterday's…_whatever_ that had been.

The bruises over his legs, back and the aching agony in his backside were making themselves known this morning, as if the sleep had only enhanced them. He struggled to withhold a wince and made his way along the aisle between the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables, casting a furtive glance to the right of him where a pensive, unfathomable gaze stared back.

Harry fidgeted with his shirt collar absently, wishing that he had had the foresight to ask Hermione for that glamour charm to cover the bruises littering his throat. Realising he was taking longer than need be (and that people were beginning to stare – as usual) Harry slid quickly into his seat beside Ron and opposite Hermione, his features contorting with pain as his backside hit the bench.

"Harry?" Hermione asked warily, but Harry shook his head as McGonagall rose from the Headmistress's chair, clinking her spoon on her goblet. The noise rang through the sudden silence and any distracted eyes fell upon her once more.

"I feel the need to explain to you all the severity of yesterday's…_catastrophe_," McGonagall began, staring over her students, her usual stern, strong posture falling back to that of a concerned grandmother. "Extreme security measures were placed within the village of Hogsmeade specifically for your day of freedom. Alas… The Ministry was infiltrated, outwitted and the aurors were struck by Death Eaters…"

An eerie whisper broke out amongst the students and as Harry slumped a little lower to avoid their gazes, Ron and Hermione straightened, as if daring them to look. Despite their efforts, some stares eluded them, including Draco, who was staring intently into Harry's eyes. Harry flushed at the memory of yesterday, not yet sure what to make of how the Slytherin had behaved and looked back to McGonagall.

"…We are not sure as to what they were searching for," she continued, her voice cutting across the murmurs, drawing the students' gazes away from Harry. "But luckily, thanks to some quick thinking and sheer talent of the aurors responsible, no students were harmed during the attack." She paused, as if searching for the strength to go on. "Unfortunately, a few aurors were injured and a few of the villagers were…" She trailed off again, though this time, in her silence, the confliction in her face seemed to resolve and she stood a little straighter.

"There will be no further Hogsmeade visits as of yet. Care of Magical Creatures lessons will be conducted on Hogwarts' grounds and _no one,_ I repeat _no one_, with any excuse whatsoever is to enter the Forbidden Forest, leave the castle after dark or to venture outside their houses past curfew." Harry, Ron and Hermione were sure she looked distinctly in their direction as she said this. "I urge you to not let this hamper your studies, Hogwarts is, as you may have guessed, the safest place for you in these troubling times. Follow the rules set in place for your safety and no harm will befall you." That said, she gestured for them to continue with their meal and took her seat once more. The hall erupted into noise.

Harry glanced around at the Slytherin table as soon as the cover of the students' chatter appeared and sure enough, the blond had not taken his eyes off him. Harry snapped his head back round and pulled some toast towards himself. Why should the arse make him feel so uneasy? He had no _right_, not after what he had done…

"Something's up with you, mate," Ron nudged him as he took a swig from his water goblet.

"That something wouldn't happen to be _Malfoy_, would it?" Hermione asked imploringly, when she clearly knew the answer. She was definitely more considerate of the whole thing, Harry realised, she was softer in her approach but she certainly didn't like it.

"And was that something up your arse?" Ron grunted callously. Harry flushed, choking on his mouthful of toast at the comment. His friends shared one of those knowing looks he despised, before Hermione took the wheel…

"Harry… You _didn't_?" She looked terrified, as if he were about to admit to being diagnosed with some dreadful illness.

"_I _didn't," Harry clarified rigidly, not having forgotten their behaviour when they had found him with Draco yesterday. "He did."

Ron made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat whilst Hermione merely looked at Harry as if he were a lost child. Or maybe he was…

"I don't want to talk about it," he hissed, wincing as he shifted in his seat. His arse was burning! "Though I certainly don't know what all the fuss is about… Why do so many people do this if it hurts so damn much?" He mumbled grumpily to himself, though he watched Hermione and Ron glance at each other again, as if regrouping for their next speech to unleash upon him. He _really _wished they'd stop doing that.

"Well, it was your first time wasn't it?" Hermione whispered across the table as quietly as she could. Though none of the surrounding students were paying much attention anyway she still glanced around at them carefully, while Harry looked up at her dumbly.

"It always hurts the first time," Ron added, feeling somewhat superior that he was the one informing the knowledge for once. Harry continued to choke against his toast as he took another sip of his drink and cleared his throat.

"Though, I mean, what with taking up the…you know…?" Hermione paused; her eyes squinted and she glanced awkwardly from one end of the room to the other. That thought was too much for even for her to comprehend and she was hardly a prude. "I guess it might be a little more painful," she finished, trying to wipe out the homosexual images that had warped her comparably innocent mind all of a sudden.

"But sex in general _does _start to feel good after a few times though," Ron reassured him, but Harry sighed. _Great, a few times_, Harry thought, knowing that would have been the only time. At that thought, he looked back over at Malfoy who at that moment was _not _glaring at him.

"It wasn't…it wasn't just that it hurt," Harry began quietly, "It was… Is…_it_ always so…brutal?"

Ron wrinkled his nose and turned his head to stare up the table, distancing himself from the conversation as much as possible. Hermione considered Harry thoughtfully, leaning across the table so that they would not be overheard.

"Well that depends," Hermione said softly, "whether you're making love or just–" She cast a glance around her warily as her cheeks flushed. "-Just _'fucking'_." She winced with distaste at her own words and Harry thoroughly wished that he could drown himself in the butter dish.

"Just a fuck," Harry murmured wretchedly, "Yeah that sounds about right…" He felt the spiteful, familiar prick of tears at the back of his eyes and blinked them away, hard, before leaping to his feet. His skin prickled as _that_ gaze fell on him, and his bruised body wavered under the pain, but he did not look up at _him_. "I'm not feeling so good – I'll meet you in Potions, okay?"

_Everyone's_ eyes followed him as he marched down the aisle and he hastened his steps to flee the Great Hall. He wasn't going to cry, not over _Malfoy _and certainly not in front of the student population that gossiped about him at the best of times…

Draco shifted from his seat as he noticed Harry's departure, maybe this would be his chance to talk to him alone quickly, since last night what he had wanted to say hadn't _exactly_ come out according to plan. "I'm just…just going for some air," He informed the surrounding slytherins who weren't really paying too much attention to him in any case.

The doors of the castle shuddered shut behind Harry as he dropped himself onto the stone steps, regretting his carelessness instantly as pain raced up his spine from his backside. Staring out across the empty courtyard, he cuffed the few stubborn droplets that escaped his eyes and began the fight to compose himself. The dark heavens above groaned with the promise of an oncoming storm and he could not help but want to scream in unison with the menacing thunder.

Gathering himself hastily, Harry moved further out into the courtyard. He needed some air, needed the feel the breeze the storm was blowing his way… The world, it was stifling him!

"Harry, are you alright there?" A light voice called from a distance. Long blond locks flickered gracefully across his vision and Harry looked around to find a familiar girl coming to stand beside him.

"Luna?" He gasped. It was nice to see her face. She smiled as he turned, her radish earrings tingling with the building wind.

"You seem lost, Harry," she pried with all her unwitting, dazed charm.

"Well I suppose I'm… Why aren't you inside with all the others?" Harry asked, avoiding her question.

"I was with the nargles," She replied dreamily, "They need to eat too you know."

Harry smiled at that. "But it's forbidden to enter the forest now, didn't you get caught?"

"No, I was careful," she was still offering him that hazy (oddly warming) smile. "Well I'd better go, after all, I need to be fed too – you should eat more Harry, you're getting rather skinny." She beamed as she skipped away. There was a spirit about her step that somehow lifted the spirits of others. Harry suddenly felt a little better, if only a little. It didn't last long…

"Oh! Hi, Draco!" Harry heard Luna chime in passing, just a few feet away. His head jolted backwards as he heard that name and he saw Malfoy coming towards him.

Harry took a few, useless steps back as he watched Malfoy's approach. His fingers curled in on themselves in an attempt to hide his wince and he backed up into the stone archway a little too hard. He felt that telltale wetness stabbing at the backs of his eyes and tipped his head back, as if hoping to let gravity draw them back into his body. Malfoy had reached him by now, was standing but a few inches away, staring at him expectantly. Harry smiled sadly, bitterly. It was as if the bastard was waiting for him to be through with his miserable attempts at trying not to cry.

"What is it this time?" Harry asked raggedly, and raised his eyes to the blond standing there, praying his gaze did not _look_ as wet and shiny as it felt. Draco's face was impassive as always, staring into his features as intently as if reading a book. Harry inhaled shakily, feeling oddly sensitive after yesterday. Did it always happen this way?

"You've torn up my arse – you've had your _fuck_," Harry spat, "Scamper off back to your _Master_ and tell him what a pathetic, _sick_ freak you've turned Harry Potter into because there's nothing worse that you can do to me now." He stared, eyes burning into Draco's, daring him to answer. He struggled to look furious, to look _livid _but knew the most he could manage was hurt…

Draco leant in towards Harry, his hands still tucked in his pockets as he dipped his head and whispered into the dark-haired boy's ear. Finally, Draco's perfect lips parted with his response. "Never did tell you what an idiot I thought you were for saving me yesterday," Draco started with a grin, standing awkwardly as he drew back to continue.

His eyes met Harry's at last and his expression softened. Harry could have sworn he saw him smile for a moment, but only a moment.

"I meant what I said," Draco continued with a frown, "About keeping your distance from me." His voice mellowed and Harry knew he must have been serious by the sound of it. He wasn't angry or frustrated, or yelling for that matter, like any of the times he had tried to distance himself before. He was different.

"The more you and I…" Draco couldn't bring himself to say it. He felt that familiar frustration build inside him as he painfully shoved his desires away from the forefront of his mind. He had to make sure Harry knew he was serious this time about staying away. But, part of him didn't _want _Harry to stay away.

"This connection," he pressed on, seeing Harry's eyes widen in realising that Malfoy had finally accepted its existence. Draco had tried to pretend to deny it still, but it had become impossible to ignore. "If it does exist – like you said, it's only going to get worse, isn't it?"

Harry exhaled unsteadily, shaking his head in answer, still reeling from Draco admitting it at last. It was one small mercy, he supposed. "It can't get any worse than this," he breathed, hot breath coming out in furls of mist in the diminutive space between him and Draco. He stared up at him unwaveringly, making sure he understood what he meant.

What had happened between them had been mouth-wateringly extraordinary, before the pain, but even then, _after_ that… He blinked hard at the brewing moisture in his eyes again. He was sure he remembered Draco's arm around him, those fingers in his before they were torn away under this ridiculous pretence of 'keeping clear' of him.

"I can understand you not wanting me," Harry muttered with self-loathing, looking away from Draco as he spoke. "I can understand _anyone_ wanting to steer clear of me. I'm well-aware that I'm scrawny and bony and under-built…" He shook his head as his voice trailed off, he was digressing, and Draco had to understand. "What I _don't_ understand is luring me in then shoving me away. If you don't want me, don't take me, don't hurt me. If you think I should stay away then at least give me a reason!" He wasn't quite sure when his voice had raised, but he knew it was in fear and anger and he couldn't calm himself no matter how hard he tried.

"Answer me!" He demanded, but Draco continued to watch him as if carefully calculating his next move, while Harry was shaking with the intensity of the feelings coursing through him. "Just give me a reason. Do I disgust you? I can understand that." Draco winced at his suggestion, as if he had been slapped in the face, but still remained silent and Harry felt those irritating tears again. "What was my arse not accommodating while you were tearing into it? Did I make the wrong noises? Did I _do_ it wrong? _Merlin_, just tell me you hate the sight of me and I'll save you the trouble of looking at–"

SLAM!

Harry's words cut short as Draco's hands crashed into the stone either side of his head, trapping him between the cool arch and Draco's hot body. Harry flushed, remembering the night before and his arse throbbed painfully.

"Look at me."

Harry's trembling stilled at the sound of that voice, low, raspy and offering no room for refusal. He looked up, fixing his eyes on the Blond's neck. "Keep going," the voice murmured and Harry reluctantly raised his chin, meeting the soft, grey gaze.

They were too close, everything of Draco's was too close and for some reason, (maybe because of last night) Harry felt more sensitive to it. The hair on the back of his neck shuddered and he struggled in resisting the urge to turn his head awkwardly into the stone wall. Draco didn't feel or look angry, Harry had felt this tempest of emotions from him before, but still had not deciphered where they came from or what they meant.

"This isn't about _that_!" Draco snapped, his gaze falling to the floor as he leant over Harry, painful twinges pricking at his eyes as he fought to withhold his emotions. His voice deepened at the strain and it clogged his usually self-assured, smug tone with something he did not care to name…

"You have something you need to do right? To _You Know Who_?" Draco asked, forcing the words from back of his throat. He glared unwaveringly into Harry's emerald eyes, the dark flecks within shining brilliantly – a brilliance mimicked within his own as the pull drew him in indomitably.

"Yes," Harry gasped, hesitantly. "I'm the only one that can kill Voldemort–" He felt Draco shudder against him at the name. "–It has to be me but…there are…_other_ things that need to be done first. But that's… That doesn't mean that I can't…have you as well."

Draco made an exasperated noise in the back of his throat and Harry's back straightened. He tilted his head to catch Draco's gaze, forcing him to look once more. "You're not a Death Eater – that mark on your arm, it was forced on you through circumstance. But that doesn't make you one of them." Harry stared up at him pleadingly, his fingers sliding up along the folds of the blond's robes, and falling hesitantly over where he _knew _the _Sectumsempra _scar lay. Draco's skin throbbed under his touch. Harry started to feel a little warm.

"Murder, violence, insanity, torture, _they _make a Death Eater." Harry stroked the scarred flesh slowly through the fabric of Draco's shirt. "Draco," his voice was nothing more than a husky purr rolling from his tongue, and it made those grey eyes darken a little. "You're not a monster; believe me, I should know, because every vile thing you've done, you've done to me. And I…I still…" He ground his teeth together, unwilling to say _the _words aloud. "I want you, and I…want you to want me."

"Harry, you don't–"

"-Why should Voldemort be allowed to take away everything from me?" Harry demanded, the husky shyness dissipating from his voice, replaced with a hollow confidence that went no further than the surface. "Is _he _the reason you're pushing me away? Draco was…was yesterday…okay?" Harry swallowed hard. "Was I ok? Am I ok or is it…is it just _him_?"

"_What_–?" Draco flushed a little at Harry's questions. He blinked hard, shaking it off under the magnitude of the more pivotal problem. "Don't you understand?! We can't keep _doing _this, and I don't _want _you to…" He was lying, lying about his desires. And Harry knew it; he could feel everything Draco was feeling through the bond coursing like an electric current through his skin.

"…I don't want you to _die_!" Draco finally admitted with a groan, grabbing Harry by his shoulders and forcing him backwards against the cold stone. His heartbeat had leapt into maddening palpitations with those words and Harry stood before him in shock, his own heart pounding furiously against his ribcage.

Ron pushed his food around his plate, his brow furrowing with worry until he could stand it no more – and rose from his seat. Harry had been out there a while now and with everything that was happening, he couldn't help but panic.

"I'm going to go see if Harry is okay," he murmured. Hermione just smiled, but Ron knew she was concerned for him too. He grabbed his half-eaten pumpkin pie and departed the Gryffindor table, taking in the unlikely beauty of the enchanted, stormy ceiling above as he walked down towards the exit. It reminded him of his first steps into Hogwarts, when everything seemed so magical, so innocent – when there was no Voldemort to ruin that. After that first year, every return to the halls had become darker and even though throughout those times, he had found wonderful memories, he couldn't help but feel consumed by that darkness lately.

His eyes widened as he reached the courtyard. An uncomfortable feeling sinking into the depths of his stomach as he witnessed Malfoy, the _git's_ hands over Harry shoulders, like a cage.

Harry stared at Draco, eyes wide with amazement and an emotion somewhere between heartache and bliss. "I don't want to die either," Harry breathed, feeling the hands on his shoulders gripping him firmly, as if he meant something. "But Voldemort will try to kill me with or without your help, and I… If I die, I'd rather do it knowing that at least…" His cheeks flushed treacherously. He inhaled deeply, as if breathing in courage and lifted his chin so that his and Draco's lips were a mere hairsbreadth apart. "At least I had you, for a little while…"

Draco stared at him, as if reeling from the statement and Harry smiled sadly. His lashes fluttered, dusting his enflamed cheeks as the low, growl of thunder grumbled above. Rain wept from the clouds above, splattering the ground below and the two boys that were barely concealed beneath the archway. Harry offered a final glance up to the halo of white-blond hair, flecked with raindrops as he leant up and pressed his mouth to Draco's.

The static intensified with the water, it seemed, with how warm Draco was compared to the rest of the world around him and his skin burned as if he had fallen into a hot bath. The warmth washed over him and Harry made a noise in the back of his throat, like something inside him had broken. His arms knotted around Draco's shoulders and he gasped between kisses. He felt Draco draw back a little for breath and Harry could not help but stare dazedly up at him. Just then, he swore he saw the briefest glimmer of a smile on those lips.

Draco let Harry's mouth touch his, for the first time, without fighting him. His heart fluttered as he stood against them, rain falling down, the icy droplets on his flushed cheeks making the palpitations hasten all the more. He wanted to kiss him, he _allowed_ Harry to kiss him and when the kiss broke, Draco didn't push him away. Harry was right; he had in fact seen a brief smile from his lips.

But then something moved, Harry watched a blur over Draco's shoulder, just out of the corner of his eye and when he inclined his head slightly, he saw Ron, watching him with absolute horror. Somewhere above him, Harry swore he heard Draco call his name softly, asking for what was wrong.

"Harry," Ron's voice called stiffly, and Harry felt Draco go rigid in his place slightly before him, as if on defence. "Harry, mate, what the hell are you doing?"

Harry's mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a few moments before he gave up on speech. The way Ron was looking at him…it hurt.

"Harry," Ron insisted this time. "Get away from him."

Harry didn't move, didn't say a word but flicked his eyes up to Draco, whose gaze was fixed on Ron, deadly still.

"Shut-up, _Weasley_!" Draco snapped, giving Harry a slight shove sideways. This situation felt _anything _but comfortable. Harry glanced between Draco's and Ron's fierce expressions, until Draco's (amazingly) softened. "Weasley is right, _Potter_, get away from me." Malfoy shot him a half-hearted glare. At that moment, the rain didn't seem so blissful and all his surroundings came crashing down as he felt his final efforts wash away.

_I was so close, so close, Draco was about to accept it… And now… _Harry's eyes stared at Ron sharply, coldly.

"Why is it _everyone_ feels they have more of a say in my life than I do?" Harry hissed, looking between the two of them, but allowing the majority of his fury to fall on Ron. "You two, Hermione, bloody _Dumbledore_, Voldemort! Why don't I get to decide how I want to live and how I want to die?" He could still feel the ghost of Draco's lips over his mouth, he had been close, if Ron hadn't been there, they might've finally…

"If the only way you guys think I can live is like this, distant, controlled, my decisions made for me then I may as well have not lived at all." When both sets of (so _radically_ different) eyes watched him in horror, Harry merely turned his attention fully to Draco. "It's not fair," He breathed, a barely there whisper that Ron could not quite hear. "You want me so _have_ me."

"Harry that's not it at all mate, I just…" Ron paused mid-sentence as he watched Draco move closer to Harry. Harry was right to a degree. But it was _Malfoy_. Ron had still been unable to come to terms with the fact that Harry _wanted _Malfoy – and it was showing.

Disregarding Weasley's words, Draco seized Harry, ripping his head back by his hair, he heard the red-head gasp in stunned horror as Draco held his best friend tightly within his grasp.

"You have a death wish, _Potter_!" Draco yelled, some of the remaining saliva brushing through the gaps in his teeth at the hiss. "He has set me another task, and I _can't _let him down this time! DON'T YOU SEE?!" He screamed, releasing Harry's hair as he leant in to his ear.

"If I give you what you want, the Dark Lord wins, and it is game over, and I won't let that happen." He spoke loudly and boldly. But Ron had only caught half of what he had said. The hardness of blond's features faded until his face became a blank picture. He stepped backwards slowly and began to speed up his pace as he swerved back to face the correct way, the last glimpses of Harry filling his head as strode back into the castle.

Ron stood flabbergasted at what he had just witnessed. "Draco _flipping _Malfoy wants you after all," he choked, causing Harry's eyes to fly to him and widen in shock. Sparing only a moment to glance between Ron and the door closing swiftly behind the Slytherin, Harry bolted after him, leaving his red-haired friend alone in the rain.

"Draco!" Harry bellowed as he skidded in through the doors, spying the Slytherin beginning to slink downstairs to the dungeon. "Draco, wait!" The blond halted his steps, but did not turn to face him. Harry gasped air into his starved lungs as he flew down the stairs to reach him. His hand shot out, turning the Slytherin forcibly by the shoulder to face him. A torn look crossed those features briefly, until the cool mask of indifference slid back into place.

"So you are going to kill me then?" Harry asked, brows descending into a frown. "Or at least drive me to him so he can do so? That's your mission, right? So will you do it?"

Draco looked insulted by the accusation and offered Harry a disgusted glare before turning away. Harry shot after him again, wincing at his wounds from yesterday but not permitting them to inhibit his movements. He knocked Draco into the wall, pressing himself in, pinning him there with his own body.

"Well if you won't do it, then you'll be killed. Whether or not you stay with me or not, so get close to me. Show him how close you're getting and buy us _both _some more time."

Draco regarded him with wide, sceptical eyes and Harry growled in frustration. "Is it so repulsive? The idea of being with me in spite of the odds?" His tone lowered considerably, and he leant in so that his whisper brushed feather-light over Draco's face. "I won't let you die just for me. I already have a bounty on my head but that doesn't mean you have to die too."

Draco made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, shoving Harry back so that he could stand up straight. Harry worried his lip for a moment, before daring speech again. "There are things I have to do before I can kill Voldemort," the dark-haired boy said quietly, confidently. He trusted Draco. "But when I do, I want you to fulfil your order. I want you to take me to him. That way I get to Voldemort and even if I'm killed, you will be alright."

"Things? What things?" Draco asked, suspicious at Harry's forwardness. Harry remained silent as Draco patiently waited for an answer. _You can't tell me can you? _Draco thought, instantly turning the other way, so Harry could no longer see his face. "Don't tell me how to handle this situation, it's for me to deal with, _not _you!" Draco bellowed.  
"Why not?" Harry snapped. "You're telling _me_ how to handle _my_ situation. At least my way we both have a chance at living to see eighteen! At least my way we don't have to be alone!" Draco still did not turn to face him and Harry sighed heavily. "Someone once told me that…on my own, I'm not as much of a threat. If you do this alone, then you're leaving me alone as well. Wouldn't you rather be there to stop me from doing something stupid and getting myself killed?" His tone was almost teasing, and he hoped that Draco caught onto it.

But those grey pupils blurred as Draco stared upwards, the ceiling was so far above, lost in the cavernous abyss of the castle's magic. He swallowed hard. "If it wasn't for this bond, I wouldn't even feel like this," he started calmly, even as he felt something fiery and hot and _agonising_ rise in his chest. "If it wasn't for this bond, we would never be having this conversation in the first place!" His hands flew up to his head then, gripping his hair as if to tear it from his head in frustration.

"If you die, then it's your fault! I didn't ask to _feel_ like this!" He could clearly hear Harry from behind the protection of his hands, heard the choking whimper rising in that throat as he, Draco failed to relent in his spitefulness. "This isn't love, this is _hate_!" He declared, finally turning to face Harry. "Hear that, I HATE YOU!"

"I don't care if you hate me!" Harry countered, moisture he loathed swelling in his eyes. "No one's ever made me feel _half_ of the things you make me feel! If that's hate then I'll take it because it's the best I've ever felt in my life – even when you hurt me!"

Draco was shaking with something akin to anger, and Harry felt his last resolve crumble. His body wavered, as if with nausea and he shuddered to the ground. And there he remained, on his knees at Malfoy's feet. "You don't hate me," he breathed and a warm, firm grip touched his shoulder. He leant into it, without raising his head, but the voice that followed was not Malfoy's.

"Mate," Ron whispered softly, "Mate, come away…"

Harry raised his head slowly. Ron and Hermione flagged his sides and he had the sensation of being lifted to his feet by them, but could not feel his feet, nor his arms where they gripped him. He could feel nothing but the expanding hole in his gut.

"Come away, Harry," Hermione insisted softly, even as Harry glared up at the impassive blond with shining, emerald eyes.

"You don't hate me," Harry insisted, without any confidence to his words. "This bond started it all but however it came about, you still feel_ something_! You wanted me – I saw it. Yesterday I felt it!" He heard Ron and Hermione murmur something but he could not focus on that, could not realise anything but the arms folded across that chest and the sheer contempt in those grey eyes.

Draco shuffled his leg a slight as Harry lost grip of him. "Get a hold of yourself, Harry," Draco demanded, his voice oddly low as he watched those tears slow slightly at his accidental use of Potter's first name.

"No, Malfoy," Hermione said, standing back to her feet. "You get a hold of _yourself_! You _took _him, you made him yours! You can't just walk away like this!"

"Can't I?" Draco sneered, offering Harry a disgusted look. He couldn't believe he had told his friends about that. "I don't think that's any of your business, is it _Mudblood_?!" He fumed, finally walking away and towards slytherin common room. "Don't follow me!" Draco snarled back at his fallen conquest.

"Harry, come on, mate," Ron insisted, trying to help him to his feet. He shared a quick glance with Hermione, they had never seen him act so weak. So why in front of Malfoy, would he fall to the depths of destruction?

Draco stared at the bruises that glistened under his skin where his dark mark lay. The lingering marring on his flesh where his wand had cut into him reminded him painfully of Harry, and how he had tried to stop him.

It wasn't just his scars.

Everything reminded him of Harry. Now he had finally accepted it – that he wanted him, he didn't want to stay away. His head, his entire _body_ ached as part of him longed to be his own person, live his own life without Voldemort owning him, without these _feelings_ constantly making him want more of Harry.

He wanted to just take his life into his own hands (and he realised at this point he was thinking too much) and decide what direction he wanted to take. How could he, with everything resting on his shoulders, keep running away from the person who made him _feel_ more alive then he had ever felt before?

_~To Be Continued..._


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note:  
_"Dilugero"_ is a spell created by ourselves, derived from "deluge" which is running water. No fiefs! Lol ask and credit before ya borrow thankies! Anyways, on with the show :D  
Please comment if you have time! It's all appreciated!

* * *

**(Bound By) Clandestine Addiction**  
[Chapter Nine]

* * *

It was the first time in an age that the darkness overhead diminished and the sun broke through, bathing those below with an inconstant flickering hope of sunlight. Harry glared up at it, his fingers freezing on his broom handle as the 'Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw' match raged below.

Harry swooped down, circling the pitch for sight of the snitch. The escape brought by being up in the air and flying freely again had uplifted him more than he'd expected. The wind rushed through his hair, growling in his ears, as if spurring him on. His body tingled as all his worldly worries flew past him, washing away like leaves on the breeze. In a rush of bliss, he threw himself flat onto his broom, diving down, down. The ground was hurtling towards him and he felt the Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang hot on his heels, believing he'd seen the snitch.

Suddenly, mere inches from the ground he yanked his broom hard and soared back up past the stands once more, Cho was seething behind him, offering him a glare he had known all too well a few years ago. His heart thudded madly, excited as he hadn't been in weeks. A relieved, blissful smile reached his entire face as he hovered by the stands, watching the game carefully, without letting his sincere grin slip.

"You should be more careful about where you're flying, Harry," Cho chimed as she hovered beside him.

Harry's smile did not falter. "I can handle myself, thanks," he answered politely.

"I didn't mean the dive," she replied softly, _far_ too flirtatiously for Harry's liking as she gestured over his shoulder. Harry turned, the glaring green of the Slytherin stands banner meeting his gaze, as well as the blond seated in the centre, watching him unwaveringly. Harry snapped his gaze back, a little embarrassed that Draco had been watching him so intently, especially when he'd been showing off and grinning like an idiot.

_Don't bother with him,_ Harry reminded himself. _He hasn't spoken to you in nearly two weeks! After how he left it you barely owe him a thought…_

A small giggle from his side drew his attention back to the girl edging closer to him. "You've changed a lot since fifth year, Harry…"

Harry raised his brows in disbelief, before offering her a smirk.

"Oh yeah," he agreed, "A lot has changed." _Including my sexual preference_, he added mentally with a small laugh, implying his true meaning with every syllable, before flying off away from Cho Chang and the Slytherin stands.

Suddenly, there was a roar of dismay from below and Harry spun in time to see Ginny come flying off her broom, the ill-hit bludger hurtling straight for _him_ next. Harry swerved, narrowly missing hitting one of the goal posts. He snagged the post with his hand, using the grip to steady his firebolt, and stared up at the centre goal, where Ron hovered nervously.

Ron raced though the air on his broomstick towards the Ravenclaw chaser who was clutching the quaffle. "Can't catch me, Weasley!" He tormented the anxious Gryffindor who was stalking him from the goal-posts. As he looped the ball through the hoop Ron growled with frustration, losing his focus on the game for a mere fleeting moment – and the goal that he was still racing forwards.

"Ahhhhhhh!" He screeched, but it was too late. His head collided with the hoop and his broom groaned menacingly at the force of the collision, splinters breaking off, showering the ground below. He plummeted rapidly after them. A groan of pain tore from his lips as he slammed into the ground. Thankfully, he had not been too high up; the drop had not been fatal. In fact, he felt more humiliated more then anything else…

Hermione leapt from her seat as she witnessed her lover collide in a blinding clash with the metal, and she flew down the stairs and across the pitch towards him. All eyes were on the Gryffindor as they heard Madam Hooch inform them the match would continue without their keeper.

"Ron are you alright?" Hermione asked breathlessly, helping him to his feet.

"My broomstick!" He whimpered as she dragged him off the field and back into the stands to get some medical attention.

"It's fine, you baby," she admonished. "Come on…"

Draco watched from his seat in the slytherin stands, his eyes scouring the pitch – he couldn't help but focus on Harry over all else while everyone else was focused on the Weasley.

Harry growled furiously under his breath. Without a keeper, Ravenclaw would slay them! Three goals had already soared through the hoops. He scanned the pitch intensely, praying for a glint of gold. He found a glint of gold, but it was not the snitch. Across the pitch, the golden-strands of Draco's hair caught him, and Harry froze. How ridiculous, he realised, that _nothing _the Slytherin did could spurn him.

_That's love, I suppose…_

It was quite eerie how easily he found him in a crowd, how his skin hummed despite their distance. But that didn't change anything. It never would. Draco had let him kiss him, had let him hold his hand, Draco had _fucked_ him but that was all it was, and evidently none of it meant that he was enough for the Slytherin to risk _anything_ for. He smiled sadly at the realisation. He wasn't worthy of so much as a prolonged thought, and judging by the way the blond had so effortlessly avoided him lately, Draco truly did not care very much at all…

_"Hear that, I HATE YOU!"_

The memory of those words echoed through his mind like a foul nightmare, one he could not shake off.

Suddenly, the stadium erupted into a mix of cheers and screams of dismay. Just across from Harry, Cho Chang was tailing the snitch. Harry threw himself forwards, his firebolt hurtling across the pitch. His broom was superior in every way, but Cho was closer. He descended like a starved hawk, desperation throbbing in his veins, but whether it was purely to save the victory in order to save Ron face, or to impress Draco, he was not sure. And he had no time to ponder it.

Cho threw a glance back at him as he bolted after her and his insides seared at the coquettish smile that lingered there. The fire erupted and somehow, he shot past her, nearly sending her flying with the speed, his fingers reached out and ensnared the tiny golden ball. The crowds yelled with delight and Harry felt the victory buzz through him for a full second, before he saw the nearest standing hurtling towards him. He pulled back hard on his broom, but was too close. He was going to hit it!

Then, his body screeched to a halt midair, he winced at the feeling of his neck snapping back from the shock of the sudden stop and gripped his broom madly, as slowly, gently, he was lowered to the ground by some unseen force.

Everything was a blur when he reached the ground. People surrounded him, patting his back hard, ruffling his hair, tugging the arm holding the snitch roughly into the air for all to see. His smile was sincere but distant, dazed and when Hermione finally reached him he threw his arms around her under the pretence of a hug.

"Tell me you did it," he gasped in her ear so that only she could hear him. He felt her shake her head against him and he drew back to look at her in confusion.

"I didn't save you, Harry," she revealed with confusion crossing her features. "I was back with Ron until a moment ago – just in time to see you stop. I don't know who could have acted so quickly and efficiently, if the spell had gone even slightly wrong you could have hit that stand a lot harder than you would have."

Harry broke free of her gaze and stared up at the stand he had nearly collided with, seeing the slytherins piling out in disgust already. "I think I have a pretty good idea who it was," he mumbled as the excited crowds slowly parted from the pitch.

"Be careful in your assumptions, Harry," Hermione warned gently, "There are a good many teachers that are considerably more qualified for such a successful spell."

Harry nodded, without really hearing her. It was stupid, he supposed. Draco hated him; the sight of him hurtling into the stands at warp speed would have probably pleased him to no end…

Hermione had lingered, had been the only one not to rush off for celebrations or to sulk, but Harry had dismissed her quietly. He wanted to be alone right now, not smothered by overzealous gryffindors. It was as if the elation, the freedom the air and his firebolt had brought him, had completely faded. It was as if all of his concerns had crashed back into him the way his body would have crashed into the stands.

_I almost wish it had_, he thought wretchedly, as he gripped his broom, slowly heading along the path the others had all followed out. The dimness of the bleachers was far more pleasant than he had remembered. The diminutive sunlight slithered in through the gaps in the seating and Harry smiled thoughtfully as he stared up, the lines of light reflecting on his face.

Suddenly, there was movement beside him. He did not move. He had heard it alright, but could not find the strength nor will to care of even think to draw his wand. If a grumpy, resentful Ravenclaw or Slytherin wanted to hex him, he would welcome the excuse to visit the Hospital wing and escape the inevitable, unwanted attention that awaited him in the common room…

But then, he saw it and he felt his lungs freeze for a moment, felt his heart cease. Turning slowly, he swore something caught in his throat, perhaps words, perhaps his ridiculous emotions, clawing at his insides like a caged feline. Draco stepped through the abandoned bleachers slowly, like a predator calculating his next move, but when he finally reached Harry, the soft glint the sunlight evoked in those eyes were _nothing _like a predator's.

The afternoon air was calm and still, sunlight flickered through the bleachers, illuminating Draco's pale skin, he _glowed _with the sparse sunlight in all its radiance. He moved forward across the space between them, a different kind of smile gracing his face as the warming sun glistened in his usually cold, silver eyes, entrancing Harry when he came close enough for the dark-haired boy to see.

"You were right, I can't stay away from you," Draco began huskily. The sun vanished behind the clouds. Harry's mouth dropped open a little.

"And I don't want to either," Draco finished, leaning in and seizing Harry's parted lips with a kiss.

Harry's lashes settled against his cheeks, eyes closing as he leant in with wanton abandon. He had played this moment weeks over and over in his head every night for the last two and it had never felt as good as this. He choked on words and when he felt Draco begin to draw back Harry's fingers knotted his pristine, blond hair, mussing it up unintentionally.

Two, strong hands seized his shoulders, prying him from the Slytherin's body. When he looked up with kiss-bruised lips parted in silent protest, he felt Draco's hands slide back to caress his shoulder-blades thoughtfully. Harry shuddered at the ghost of a touch, leaning in to capture Draco's mouth once more, but that grip help him steady and a smile flickered at those lips, unhindered by worldly worries for that brief moment. Harry froze at the sight of it.

"If this is some cruel joke," Harry began shakily, not sure he wanted to shatter the dream, "I'll never forgive you."

Draco crushed Harry's words back with a more forceful kiss this time, sweeping his tongue ravenously through Harry's mouth, causing his jaw to ache slightly from the force. Drawing back from the wet kiss impatiently as he groaned, "I_ want you_" the rumbling in the back of his throat.

Dropping to his knees, he brought his mouth to the hardened area in Harry's quidditch trousers, nibbling at the base of his clothed cock and running his mouth over the material slowly. He took the zip between his teeth and pulled it downwards, glancing up at Harry every so often as he used only his teeth to remove the hindrance of cloth.

Draco leant in and licked fiercely at Harry's erect cock through the layer of material. He drew away then with a teasing grin and the words, "_Take your trousers off_" stumbled over his dirty lips.

Harry groaned at those entirely inappropriate words tumbling from those lips in such husky tones. He nodded dumbly, reaching down with slightly shaking hands to drop his trousers completely. Perhaps entirely over-eager, Harry threw aside his quidditch uniform, until he stood there in nothing but his white underwear. A slight chill caressed his bared, honey-tinted torso until his dusty nipples stood erect and he slid his arms in front of him awkwardly. The last time Draco had coerced him into such a compromising position, he had not paused to offer him more than a glance. This time he was studying him carefully with a wicked look crossing his features, as if committing his every freckle and scar to memory.

****CENSORED. FOR THE FULL CHAPTER WITH LOVE SCENES PLEASE SEE THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE****

With the sounds of Draco's climax echoing in his ears, Harry felt himself slump slightly. He was so dizzy with it all; he needed to lie down…

Draco's arms wrapped around him, steadying his body and holding it upright for a moment and Harry realised with a flush (as his self-consciousness returned) that the blond was still inside him. "You're…_amazing_!" Harry settled on, smiling breathlessly. "I rather think I…like you more than I should," he laughed softly, closing his eyes for a moment against the reality of the real world brushing with startling coldness over his sweat-slicked skin. "I really like you…"

Draco felt all too hazy as he came down from the high, his entire body radiating a glow from the explosion he had just experienced. Still panting hard, he managed to squeeze a few gasped words out in reply. "'I should hope you like me fucking you too…" He groaned, not really grasping the entirety of what Harry had said as he finished that sentence. "…No one has ever complained before." He pulled away a little then, staggering backwards dazedly.

Harry looked distant for a moment. _He's been with other people, _he thought sadly as Draco continued to catch his breath. The slytherin spoke with panting, broken pauses.

"You do…_realise_…that…_this_…has to stay…between just us…_right_?"

Harry sat upright suddenly. "So that's _all _I am, your dirty little secret?" He spat angrily, unhappy with the callous remark just made.

"You got a problem with that?" Draco glared darkly, finally looking over at him.

"Do you want secrecy so that you can fuck others without letting them know they are sucking the same cock that's been up the _pathetic _Harry Potter's arse?" Harry asked bitterly, quietly, as if the very breeze could whisk his words away. "Or do you want it because you're ashamed of me?" He hated the taste and sound of insecurity on his tongue, and couldn't bear to look Draco in the eyes.

As he had expected, his perfect, hazy image of Draco admitting he wanted him was shattered by the blond's thoughtlessness. He chewed his lip for a moment, before raising his hurt eyes to the Slytherin. "Am I really just a…_fuck_?" He hated the way that sounded; it created a pain his chest that could easily rival _crucio_. He shook his head slightly, running his fingers through his hair as he realised how ridiculous it sounded. "Ugh," he growled uselessly, "Tell me I'm an idiot. Tell me I mean something, _anything_ more than _just _a fuck and I'll stop embarrassing us both."

He realised he had asked more than one question there and he wondered, briefly, which Draco would answer first. If any…

Draco's eyes shot open at his sudden statements. _Who said I was fucking anyone else?_ He wondered, but never spoke aloud. He had never thought of Harry as just a fuck.

"I showed you a good time because it was what _you_ wanted, wasn't it? And you're still not satisfied?" Draco growled, unwilling to give Harry more then he had asked for. Hadn't fucking him and allowing him to enjoy it this time been a good enough of an answer? Draco's insides boiled with his anger. He had finally given in, and for what? A lecture?!

"You're a twit, Potter," He spat at Harry's accusations. "You can take me as I am or not at all," He finished, dodging Harry's questions by replacing them with his own.

"It's what I wanted," Harry clarified quietly; his voice a tad more dejected than Draco cared for. "I can take you as you are, even if you don't answer my questions." Harry wasn't sure exactly what it was, but something in the Slytherin's eyes just made him feel exceptionally foolish. He had felt the way Draco's mind was when he was dazed with passion, sensed him cumming before it had even occurred, through the bond. _If Draco were fucking anyone else, you idiot, you'd know._

He really was an idiot, spoiling everything when Draco had actually come as close to…nice as Harry thought him capable. With Draco glaring at him, as if insulted by his questions, Harry looked up at him sheepishly through his eyelashes, before leaning forward and pressing an unmistakably apologetic kiss to the boy's lips. He drew back an inch, staring into the grey eyes watching him with suspicion.

"I like you," Harry said lamely, but sincerely and Draco blinked at him. Draco could not mistake it this time. "You're important to me…" Harry trailed off, stopping himself from adding what he had truly wished to say, but hoping they were discreetly implied by the way he was looking at him. _You make me happy_ and worst yet, _I love you,_ would have probably earned him a sneer and most likely result in him being left alone and naked under the bleachers.

"If you can handle being the _Chosen One's _lover then I can be your dirty little secret," he murmured with a teasing edge to his voice now, his words breathing over Draco's lips, which tipped up with the smallest smile.

"Hah, of course," Draco said proudly, grabbing his underwear from the floor where he had kicked them. "So, are you going to put my pants back on for me?" He grinned seductively, watching Harry's cheeks flush a tomato-red at his request. He handed Harry the garment and watched as he knelt down to 'service' him.

Harry eyed him carefully as he pulled the grey underwear back up to cover the organ that had just been inside him, hoping it wouldn't be too long before he would see it again…

"Harry, are you _blushing_?" The Slytherin laughed. The Chosen One was a little pathetic and it satisfied him indescribably to see him this way. "Don't be so _camp!_" Draco spat, nudging him sideways as he continued to pull on his trousers.

Harry quirked a brow. "Am I supposed to understand what that means?" He asked sceptically, getting to his feet, only to be pulled hard and roughly into Draco's chest. Fingers knotted in his hair and Harry did not resist the grip in any way, on the contrary he merely smiled mischievously. Those lips descended firmly – _ardently _against his own and he groaned shamelessly against them, frowning in negation as Draco pushed him away.

With a small (frighteningly contented sigh) Harry watched the Slytherin climb into his clothes elegantly. "You realise this is the first time you're leaving me without hitting me or anything?" He said, mostly to himself as he stooped to retrieve his own clothes. No sooner had he bent over, however, a harsh, stinging smack crashed across his backside. He jumped up, whirling around to face the smirking Slytherin.

"What the _hell_ was that for, you arse?" Harry snapped, rubbing his sore cheek. He realised before Draco had even answered though – that was Draco's answer to the 'hitting me or anything' remark.

"Potter," He snapped smugly as he brought his hand away from the blistered red cheek, leaning over and grabbing his cloak as Harry finally pulled up his underwear. Draco glared from where he was sitting as Harry redressed himself. Thankfully, the Gryffindor wasn't facing him as he dressed, otherwise Draco's flushed complexion would have caused a whole new set of questions. He quickly took his eyes away from Harry and picked his wand up from the floor.

Walking over to the oblivious Gryffindor and pulled Harry backwards into his arms. "Now every time you're alone in the shower or in bed, you'll have the memories of this to jerk yourself off to, you can just imagine I'm watching if you're ever having trouble getting it up," He whispered tenderly in his ear, punctuating his words with a teasing lick of Harry's ear (one last time) and released him to finish getting dressed.

Harry frowned, almost petulantly for a few moments upon being released and turned to face the now fully-clothed blond. "If I have trouble getting it up I may just sneak into your dormitory wearing my cloak and jerk off over your sleeping body," Harry retorted. Draco raised a brow, as if deciding whether or not he would do such a thing. Harry smirked as he approached him.

"So do I get to hold your hand?" Harry asked, smiling sincerely, teasingly. He swore he saw Draco reciprocate the action, if ever so briefly. "Will you walk me to my classes and kiss me when we say goodbye?" Draco merely stared vacantly down at him and Harry's smirk broadened. "Am I pushing my luck?" he laughed.

Draco gave him a glare that made him feel inadequate for even suggesting they _hold hands _as a joke. Remaining silent and un-amused at those questions, he ignorantly walked ahead and onwards from the bleachers.

"Draco!"

The blond stopped as Harry called after him and remained still, even as Harry moved before him, leaning up to slide their lips together. Harry flicked his tongue out, briefly touching the other's, while his mouth kneaded Draco's and then he drew back. "See you around," Harry said simply, before hurrying off across the grounds towards the castle. Draco stood there for a moment, watching him with irritation (and something else he'd rather not name) burning in his chest. How dare he steal himself something as trivial as a _goodbye kiss_?! Draco winced as he felt his cheeks colour.

_~To Be Continued..._


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